Child of My Heart
by 2headsRbetter
Summary: dHall & Alice I collaboration! Charlie made a promise to a friend. And when your heart is talking, it’s hard to say no. UPDATED!
1. Rip Van Winkle

**Child of my Heart: **_Charlie made a promise to a friend. And when your heart is talking, it's hard to say no._

_Authors:_ Alice I _plus_ dHALL _equals_ **2headsRbetter**

_Disclaimer:_ We hold no rights to any of the CBS characters but we **do** **own** **and reserve intellectual rights to all original characters.**

_Watch:_ Episode Five - Prime Suspect from Season One.

_Read:_ 'Friendship isn't Charity' by Alice I (A companion piece which was inspired by the plot bunny that has since grown into this epic tale.)

_Spoilers:_ Mainly 'Prime Suspect". Anything is possible - all the way up to the most current episode of season three.

In the spirit of friendship we, the undersigned writers, have decided to collaborate on an extensive, unencumbered project that will include many companion pieces to further elaborate on this tale.  
That said, we would like to present chapter one of **Child of My Heart**.  
Enjoy! And please let us know what you think of our first joint project!

Thanks for reading,  
Alice I and dHALL

**Chapter One: Rip Van Winkle**

As the first rays of the dawn began to crest over the horizon, a feeling of excitement battled with the bone crushing exhaustion that had pervaded every fiber of Special Agent Don Eppes' body for the last few days.

When Colby Granger led the extraction team to get him out of South America, the first thing he had said when they were safely in a helicopter was, "You look like crap, Don"

And Don had to agree. He did indeed look like crap. His worn clothing hung loosely on a not quite emaciated frame. It was clear that the agent had lost at least fifteen pounds that he couldn't afford to lose. His hair was long and hung around his face in limp tangles. The full bushy beard and moustache that covered his tanned face also showed signs of neglect and he had deep circles under his dark brown eyes that looked almost permanent.

When he arrived back at FBI headquarters in Los Angeles, he had endured a thorough debriefing that had lasted almost thirty-six hours. He had been able to clean up a little then, and Colby had brought some clean clothes for him to change into. But the dark jeans hung loosely around his hips and the plain white t-shirt did nothing to hide his thin frame but instead left him looking like a cleanly dressed transient. Walking out of the FBI offices he vowed silently to himself that he would never take on an assignment like this again. He had told Assistant Director Merrick the same thing only moments ago and he had meant every word.

When Don had agreed to go undercover to gather evidence on the head of the Valdario Columbian drug cartel, he had no idea how much of an emotional impact being cut off from his family for an extended period of time would have on him, both mentally and emotionally. He had spent years seeing his family only occasionally when he studied on the east coast and again when he worked in New Mexico and in fugitive recovery. But all that changed when he came home to be with his mother and support his family during her final months. After only a few weeks out of contact, Don quickly became aware of how much he had grown to depend on his father and brother. They had become his support system, and not being able to see them or talk to them; not knowing what events were transpiring in their everyday lives, made his time in Colombia so much longer and more arduous.

Just as he knew they would, when Don told his family about this assignment both Charlie and Alan went off the deep end. Alan was suspicious that this was a prelude to going back to fugitive recovery. But Charlie held his own concerns about his brother's motivation in accepting such an assignment.

"_I thought we were okay, Don. We've been working well together, so why this desire to go away? Why are you accepting this assignment? Why not some other agent?"_

The look of hurt in Charlie's eyes nearly convinced Don that he should change his mind about going. But he knew in his heart that there was no way he could pass on this assignment.

"_Charlie, we **are** okay, better than okay. This isn't about you, Buddy, I promise."_

"_Then what is it, Don? Why do you have to do this?"_

"_Katrina Escobar."_

That one name had said it all for Charlie. Katrina Escobar was a young Mexican American woman who had grown tired of what the influx of crime and drugs was doing to her family, her friends and her neighborhood. The drug trade had claimed the lives of her mother as well as three of her four brothers and she wasn't going to lose what was left of her family to it as well.

She approached the FBI and offered up her services as an informant on the drug traffic in the south Oakland area. Katrina was well known in the neighborhood and the locals trusted her. Through some very subtle digging she had found out that Juan Valdario was going to be in Los Angeles to oversee the set up of a new _Tems_ lab. Tems was the street name for _Temgesic_, or Buprenorphine which was the newest opioid to hit the street. Juan was the son of the Valdario cartel kingpin, Miguel Valdario. And just as Katrina was willing to go to any lengths to save her baby brother's future, the FBI was prepared to do much the same to make sure this man didn't have one. They wanted to take down the Valdario cartel and they wanted it in a bad way.

Working with Katrina's knowledge of the community and using Charlie's advanced game theory equations, they were able to find the location of the newly set up lab. The FBI then conducted one of the most pivotal raids in recent history for the war on drugs in the LA area. Despite surveillance and careful preparations, they still underestimated the strength of the cartel's resistance. There was an unexpected shootout between the cartel members and the LAPD, FBI and DEA agents conducting the raid and things quickly went from bad to worse.

Katrina had insisted on being present for the raid, but she was safely behind the line of fire in a SWAT van. Charlie too had somehow managed to convince Don that he might be needed for some last minute calculations, so he was in the FBI tactical unit monitoring the situation. As the shootout continued, several cartel members slipped past the line of agents and LAPD officers. From her vantage point Katrina saw that they were headed straight for the tactile van that Charlie was in. SWAT backup had already left the van and Katrina had no way to contact the FBI unit. She had seen several agents leave the van after the shootout had begun and knew Charlie was alone and unarmed. Acting without thought to her own safety, she jumped out and rushed toward the other van, hoping to warn Charlie of the approaching gunmen or get the attention of the nearby agents.

Her shouts alerted the SWAT team that was closest to the perimeter of the firefight, but it also alerted the hostiles to her presence. A gunfight ensued and Katrina was caught in the middle of it. As the agent in charge, Don was immediately alerted to the situation unfolding at the location of the tactical van. Thinking of Charlie, Don came tearing back. He had insisted both civilians wear Kevlar vests, but for Katrina it had done little good. The young woman had taken two bullets in the neck and she ended up dying in Don's arms with Charlie looking on in shocked disbelief.

As the memory of that day played through his mind again, Don knew Charlie had understood why he needed to take on this assignment. Katrina had been willing to protect him at any cost, just as she would have her own brother. And the cost had been her life.

The Valdario cartel was the root cause of Katrina's death and Don had a 'hands on' opportunity to avenge her murder. If they could bring down Miguel Valdario it would give her sacrifice the meaning that it needed to provide some closure. Not just for them, but for Katrina's brother as well and Don felt like he owed the boy that much.

"_I have to do this, Charlie."_

"_I understand. I don't like it, but I **do** understand it. I guess this means it would be too dangerous for you to call us once in a while to check in?"_

"_Yeah, Charlie it would be."_

"_How dangerous is this?"_

"_You don't want to know."_

"_Don?"_

"_I'll be working on Valdario's estate, Charlie. But my cover is solid."_

"_How will you get out when your job is done?"_

"_That's already been taken care of. I have a time limit on this. I have to get what I can before Valdario comes to LA for his daughter's wedding. Look, Buddy, don't worry about me. I have it all under control."_

That conversation with his brother echoed hollowly in Don's head as he pulled out of the FBI parking lot and headed toward Pasadena. He had it under control until he found out how Valdario treated his 'estate staff'. Don had essentially been used as slave labor during his time on Valdario's estate. He was mistreated, underfed and worked to exhaustion. The fact that he was also a gringo got him worse treatment than the other workers there, but he had gotten the evidence that they needed. It had been the biggest challenge that he had yet faced as an FBI agent, but he had succeeded.

It was over now and what he needed was to be home……..wrapped in the warm embrace of his family. He needed to hear Charlie's staccato tapping on the chalkboard in the garage. He needed to smell his father's roast beef slow cooking in the oven. He needed to fall into his old bed upstairs in the home of his childhood.

'_What I really need is a bath, a shave and a hair cut!'_

With a wry chuckle, he pulled into the driveway of the old craftsman house. He could feel the stress and fatigue begin to slip from his body as if a cool, clear rain was washing the past three and a half months away.

Looking at himself in the rearview mirror, Don knew his appearance would no doubt shock his family. Even the full beard didn't really hide how gaunt he had become. Being able to wash up during his debriefing was one thing but he hadn't had the opportunity to shower and wash his hair, which was probably longer than Charlie's at the moment.

The thought amplified how much he had truly missed seeing his brother. He missed teasing him about getting a hair cut. Looking in the mirror one more time, Don realized how much the deep tan that he had acquired during his time in Columbia seemed to magnify the ever present dark circles that shrouded his brown eyes in shadows.

'_Colby was wrong. I don't look like crap; I look like something out of a medieval nightmare.'_

The fact that he had hardly slept in the last two days didn't do much for his overall look either. He was thinking that he really should go home, clean-up and shave first. But then he remembered his apartment had been sublet and his belongings put into storage almost four months ago.

He got out of the car and walked up the driveway past the hydrangea bushes and was delighted to see that Charlie's car was parked there. Unsure how close it was to the end of the semester, Don wasn't sure until that moment whether or not his brother would even be home. The realization that what he wanted more than anything else was to see Charlie hit him like a bulldozer and he quickly made his way back up the driveway to the front of the house.

He had thought briefly of going in through the kitchen door but decided that the front door was a better idea. The way he looked, he could easily have been mistaken for a prowler and the last thing he wanted was to frighten his family. It took Don a moment to find the key and fit it into the lock. He wanted to be quiet in case someone was sleeping and a small part of him wanted to surprise them.

He opened the door and stepped quietly into the living room, but he was instantly alerted to the fact that something was off. It wasn't so much that something was wrong….just very much out of place. He nearly stepped back out of the door to make sure he had the right house but as he looked around he recognized some of the furniture. He knew that he was in his family home but it was like he had been transported back in time to his early childhood.

The early morning sun shown in through the semi-sheer draperies covering the front bay window casting soft beams of diffused light across the hardwood floors, which were littered with toys.

A bottle of milk or formula…or something was sitting on the dining room table.

A playpen was set up on the far side of the living room near the fireplace.

Don took a tentative step further into the house and stepped on something soft.

He bent down and picked up a stuffed……something. As Don looked at it he couldn't quite figure out what it was supposed to be. It looked a little like a short necked giraffe or maybe an antler-less moose that had two legs and two arms. Each of its limbs were different colors and textures. The left upper limb crinkled like cellophane paper, while the right upper limb had a soft felt-like quality. The lower limbs were bumpy on the left and silky on the right. It was the oddest toy Don had ever seen.

A soft murmur brought the agent's attention to the couch in front of the bay window where he saw his brother, Charlie, sound asleep with a baby lying face down on his chest; a lock of the young man's curly hair tangled around the fingers of a tiny fist.

Don stared at this scene before him, uncomprehending just what it was he was seeing. He found himself mesmerized as he watched the rise and fall of Charlie's chest with each breath. Looking more closely he could see that he wasn't the only one who had dark circles under his eyes.

Even in his sleep his younger brother looked utterly exhausted. But somehow he seemed perfectly natural in this position; an arm wrapped loosely around the slumbering baby. The child suddenly jerked in its sleep and whimpered. Charlie tightened his hold and gently began to pat the child's back in his sleep. This calmed the infant and they both slept on peacefully.

'_What in the world is going on? I was only gone for three months right? I mean you can't have a baby…'_

Don's thoughts were interrupted by sounds coming from the kitchen. His father must be in there making coffee.

That is, unless he really had pulled some sort of Rip Van Winkle.

What if there was a wife to go with that baby and she was in that kitchen making a family breakfast. Feeling slightly disoriented, Don wondered when he was going to hear Rod Serling announce that he had stepped into the Twilight Zone.

Moving quietly so as not to wake the unlikely pair on the couch, Don moved over to the door leading from the dining room into the kitchen. He hesitated just as he was about to push through the swinging door that would lead him to the source of the sounds. Did he really want to go in there? What would he find on the other side of that door? Gathering his nerve, Don slowly pushed open the door and quietly stepped into the kitchen.

Alan Eppes stood at the sink with his back to the door putting dishes from the previous evening into the dishwasher. Don felt more grounded seeing his father performing such a normal task. After seeing Charlie with a baby, he needed to see something as ordinary and mundane as his father doing the dishes.

Alan caught sight of someone standing behind him out of the corner of his eye and turned around expecting to see his youngest son. When he was greeted with the sight of a tall thin scruffy man with long grimy hair and a dark tanned face covered with an unkempt beard and moustache his eyes opened wide in fear.

"Hey, Dad."

Alan stood frozen for a moment staring into the eyes of the intruder standing in his kitchen and realized that he was seeing his oldest son.

"Oh my God! Donnie!"

Alan moved more quickly than Don would have thought possible for a man in his seventies. He encompassed him in a huge bear hug, only pulling back after Don made sounds like he was suffocating. He held his son's face between his hands as he spoke in rapid-fire questions.

"Oh, God, Donnie you're here; you're home! Are you all right? Is it over? Is the case done? Can you stay? Of course you can stay you have no apartment to go to. Are you sure you're all right? Are you hungry? Good Lord, look how thin you are."

"Dad, Dad I'm fine, it's over, and I'm home for a long time. It will be at least six weeks before I go back to work."

"Oh… oh I see."

Alan finally backed off a little and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table for Don to sit down.

"Here let me get you a cup of coffee. Can I make you some breakfast?"

"Thanks, Dad. But coffee will be fine."

Alan got a cup from the cupboard and poured coffee for his son. He pulled creamer out of the refrigerator and brought the sugar bowl over to the table.

"It's so good to have you home. So much time has passed…"

For a moment, Don felt like sinking into the chair, enjoying a nice cup of coffee with his father and pretending that the past three months had never happened. But the odd looking plaything in his hand remained to be explained, not to mention the startling small addition to the household that went with it.

Lifting his eyes to look at his father, Don sat the plush animal next to the sugar bowl on the table and raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Dad. A lot of time _has_ passed."

A smile drew up the corners of Alan's mouth as he watched Don's baffled expression. But he didn't respond right away. Instead Alan sighed deeply and sat down at the table. Picking up the toy, Alan turned it over in his hand. He seemed to be contemplating the mysteries of the universe and Don suddenly felt like he was going to need more than one cup of coffee to get through this explanation.

Don took a seat across from his father at the table and reached for his coffee mug.

"Dad? Unless I was injured out there and I'm having some kind of fever induced hallucination... or..."

He reached across the table and plucked the toy out of his father's hand.

"What the hell is this thing, and who is that sleeping on Charlie's chest out on the sofa?"

Alan smiled at him. But it was a tired smile.

"It's a sensory baby toy, Donnie, and the baby's name is Adam."

Don suddenly noticed the dark circles under his father's eyes and he realized that whatever events had resulted in the new 'daycare' decor that adorned the living room, it wasn't going to be a happy story. As Alan took a sip of his coffee, Don leaned forward in his chair.

"I _have_ only been gone three months... right?"

"Well, son."

Alan paused dramatically and shrugged his shoulders.

"A lot can happen in three months."

Don looked at the odd little toy that he still held in his hands and raised an eyebrow as if to confirm his father's last statement.

"Yeah, uh, is there something you want to tell me?"

Realizing what a shock it must have been for Don to see the house looking the way it did; not to mention seeing a baby sleeping peacefully with his brother, Alan cleared his throat and nodded at his oldest son.

"A lot _has_ happened while you were away."

………………………………

TBC


	2. Come Watson, The Game is Afoot

**Chapter Two: Come Watson, The Game is Afoot**

Don sat in silent anticipation of whatever explanation Alan had to offer him. Without words his father had already told him that this wasn't going to be a happy tale. When Alan stood and headed for the counter only to return with the entire pot of coffee, Don realized it was also going to be a long one. The deep lines under his father's eyes made it apparent that the events of the past few months, whatever they were, had been tremendously strenuous on him and Don made a mental note to speak with his team.

He should have been informed of the difficulties that his family had obviously faced during his absence.

Don put his irritation at his team aside when Alan leaned forward in his chair to take a sip of coffee; then without further preamble began speaking.

"Don, you need to know that Charlie understood why you had to take this undercover assignment."

Nodding his head, Don looked in confusion at his father.

"Yeah. Yeah. We talked about all of that before I left."

Alan nodded, his voice taking on an even more dismal air as he continued.

"Well, I understood too. Katrina saved your brother's life and in turn lost her own. When you found the means to make the man who was responsible face retribution, you had to follow through. We both understood that, Donnie."

Don heard a huge 'but' coming and he wasn't wrong as his father went on.

"But, your absence was hard on Charlie. I don't think your brother realized how much he was going to miss you until you were gone."

Don knew exactly what his father was talking about. He had also underestimated what being out of contact with his family would do to him emotionally. He had always had the ability to compartmentalize his emotions and set the more vexing ones aside so that he could focus on the job at hand, but that was not a skill that his younger brother excelled in. Charlie wasn't nearly as hesitant to be emotionally available as he was and Don only hoped that his prolonged absence had not rebuilt any of the walls they had worked so hard to tear down.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

The genuine sorrow in his eldest son's voice struck a chord with Alan and he smiled gently, his eyes reflecting understanding and compassion.

"Don't be sorry, Donnie. You did what you had to do. You did what needed to be done. And so did Charlie. You need to understand that it's been……well, let's just say that there were many times when we both wished that you were here."

Puzzled by his father's oration, Don leaned forward onto the table and clasped his hands together.

"Dad, just tell me what happened."

Shaking his head, Alan sighed deeply before continuing.

"Do you remember Ethan Burdick?"

Don raised his eyebrows as he searched the recesses of his mind for the face that matched that name. It took him a minute to find it, since it had been a few years, but Don could still remember the expression of disbelieving joy on the faces of two tormented parents when they took their daughter, alive and well, from his arms.

"Yeah. Kidnapping case, about two years ago. Charlie worked on that one with us."

"That's the one. It seems that Charlie stayed in contact with them and they've since spent quite a bit of time working together. They became good friends. But about three months ago, Charlie started spending a lot more time with Ethan. I think he was looking for a way to fill the void."

A sharp pang of guilt reached his heart as Don realized what his father was saying and Alan's implied sentiment echoed in his mind.

'_A void left by me.'_

Alan continued with his lengthy explanation, taking note of Don's pained expression.

"They worked together on the Riemann's Hypothesis ...They both seemed pretty determined to solve it this time. But as it turns out, Ethan was also in need of a friend. As Charlie got to know the Burdick family better, he learned some disturbing news about Ethan's daughter. It seems that not long after the kidnapping ordeal she was diagnosed with an aggressive form of Leukemia."

The guilt intensified as the pang turned into a spear.

"Oh God, Dad. Is she going to be all right?"

Alan had such a deep look of sadness in his eyes; Don suddenly found that he didn't want to hear the answer to that question. He had been gone and Charlie was left here to face the thing that nearly destroyed him once. Not just to face it, but to help someone else get through what he himself had not been able to. True, he had not been alone. Their father had been here. But Don knew that what Charlie would have needed the most was his brother.

Feeling an upsurge of anger at being oblivious to the pain and sorrow his family had endured while he was gone; Don added a number two to the list of things he was going to give his team hell for.

'_Why didn't they contact me? The undercover assignment was important, but damn it! Family always comes first!'_

His father seemed to be able to read his mind and reached over and touched Don's hand gently.

"Donnie, there wasn't much you could have done. Don't blame your team for not trying to contact you."

Alan looked so much older in that moment that the spear of guilt took on the heat of shame, burning his heart as though it had been left in hot coals. Alan refilled his coffee cup then set the pot down and heaved a big sigh.

"So much can happen in such a short time."

Pushing the guilt down so that he could focus on his father's words, Don reached over and laid his hand on Alan's arm.

"Just start at the beginning."

………………………………

_**Three Months Ago **_

………………………………

Friendship isn't charity. Just as his father had suggested, Charlie had done his best to convince Ethan Burdick of this. But his friend and fellow mathematician was having none of it. It had only been a few days since he had found out the details of Emily's illness and the financial trouble that the family was in due to the medical costs. When Charlie heard that the bank was prepared to foreclose on the mortgage of the family's house, he immediately offered to loan the Burdicks the money they would need. Much to Charlie's confusion, Ethan had flatly refused. Alan had tried to explain to his youngest son how Ethan must be feeling; as a man who had worked hard to provide his family with everything they had.

"You don't know what that's like, Charlie. To be in need like that. And then to just have someone come along and pay for the solution to a problem. That's more than just charity. It's just a subtle way of exercising superiority over someone."

Feeling like he'd just been slapped in the face by Ethan's refusal to accept money from him, Alan's words stung Charlie like salt in an open wound.

"What?"

Dropping his jacket across the back of the couch, Charlie turned to stare at his father.

"I have absolutely no misconceptions about being superior to Ethan. How could he think that? How could _you _think that?"

"Calm down, Charlie. I didn't say you were _trying _to show superiority over Ethan, or that he would feel that way."

Shrugging his shoulders, Alan leaned forward in the brown leather chair where he had been seated when Charlie came home.

"To be honest, Charlie, I don't know Ethan. I can't speak for his feelings in the matter. But I can speak from the experience one gains over the course of a lifetime."

Charlie rolled his eyes and headed into the dining room, but Alan pulled himself to his feet and followed.

"Now, Charlie….when someone's made their own way in the world it's hard for them to accept a handout from anyone."

Charlie turned to him, belligerently.

"It is _not _a handout! I told him that."

"Even if you said that it wasn't a gift, but a loan….the effects on his ego are going to be the same, Charlie."

Throwing up his hands up in exasperation, Charlie threw himself into the chair at the end of the dining room table.

"Well, what am I supposed to do then? I have to help them, Dad. I can't explain it. I just know that I'm supposed to help him."

"There's an old saying, Charlie. Give a man a fish, feed him for a day…"

Charlie got back on his feet and cut him off mid sentence.

"Yeah, yeah. Teach him to fish, feed him for a lifetime. Ethan knows how to 'fish'."

"Then help him find a decent place to throw in his line, son."

Stopping in the kitchen doorway, Charlie cocked his head at his father.

"Why would accepting a job from me be any different than accepting money?"

"Life is out of control for him, Charlie."

Alan leaned across the dining room table to reiterate his point.

"Ethan needs to feel like he can take care of his own. Offering him a better way to do that will help him regain some of that control. What you can't do is just show up with your checkbook and pay off his debts. He would lose respect for himself and for you. Do you understand what I am telling you?"

Heaving a deep sigh and giving his father an understated nod, Charlie turned away from the kitchen and headed for the solarium.

Charlie had recently been offered a handful of freelance projects, but he had yet to accept them. Knowing that Ethan was more than qualified for the jobs in question and with him as a reference, Charlie hoped the companies involved would consider giving Ethan the commission in his stead. The next three hours were spent on the phone in the sunlit room lining up three of the most lucrative of these jobs for Ethan.

When Charlie reemerged and walked into the living room, Alan was leaning over the coffee table working on a sudoku puzzle. Standing silently behind his father for a moment, Charlie's eyes scanned the 9×9 grid.

"You don't want to put that there. Your given already provides you with a three in your column, row and………."

Alan jerked his head up and he glared at his youngest son.

"Charlie, when I need your help...…."

"…you'll ask for it. Sorry, I couldn't resist."

Charlie walked around the couch and sat down across from him, resting his chin in his hands. His dark brown eyes were drawn up in an apologetic puppy dog sort of way and Alan put down his pencil and shook his head at him.

"What is it, Charlie?"

"I…I was thinking about what you said. About Ethan?"

"Okay?"

"I've lined up some consulting jobs for him. But I just don't know how to give them to him…or to ask him if he wants them. What if he considers that charity too? I guess….what if I crossed a line offering to loan him money? I just don't want him to get the wrong impression."

"Then speak to his wife, Charlie."

Alan picked up his pencil and returned to his puzzle as Charlie pondered his suggestion. Making a decision, Charlie rose to his feet and walked purposefully to the phone, dialing a number.

"Hello, Becky? It's Charlie Eppes…..

…I'm doing well, thank you….

….Listen I was wondering if you and Ethan and the kids would like to come over for dinner tomorrow evening. Actually I have an ulterior motive…"

At these words Alan lowered the puzzle he was working on and watched as Charlie continued to speak to the woman on the other end of the line.

"… I have a couple of consulting jobs that I just don't have the time to get to right now, and I was hoping that Ethan might be interested."

After a brief silence, Charlie's grin told Alan that his plan was working.

"That would be great Becky, how does 5:30 sound to you? …

Great. I'll see you then."

Alan raised the puzzle back up and pretended that he had not been eavesdropping on Charlie's call, but the smile on his face gave him away. Charlie shrugged his shoulders at his father.

"Well, I'm just letting him fish in my pond."

………………………………

When the Burdicks arrived Saturday afternoon, Charlie immediately suggested that Emily might like to see the Koi and Becky knowingly led her into the backyard where Alan was grilling hamburgers.

Charlie took Ethan up to the solarium where he handed several folders to the older mathematician.

"I've been inundated with my workload at CalSci and I just don't have the time to undertake projects this complex. I have spoken with each of these clients and explained my time constraints, but I told them about you and your skills. They all agreed to have you take on the projects if you are willing to."

Charlie watched Ethan's face as he spoke. His friend was a brilliant mathematician but he was not published to the degree that Charlie was, nor was he as well known and respected in the mathematical community. There was little chance that he could have gotten any of these jobs without Charlie's help and it was obvious that he knew that. Charlie watched as Ethan literally swallowed his pride and extended his hand to take the folder.

"Thank you, Charlie. I can certainly help you out with this work load. It'll give me something more tangible to focus on than Riemann's right now."

Charlie didn't miss the meaning underneath his friend's words and he nodded in agreement. He was so pleased that Ethan had accepted his assistance that he had to force himself not to grin. They spent a few minutes going over the parameters of each project until Alan called them down for dinner.

The meal was spent in pleasant conversation and effortless laughter. Emily seemed to have found a kindred spirit in Alan and as he began to remove dishes from the dining room table, the child was immediately up to assist him. From inside the kitchen Charlie could hear his fathers muted voice and the much softer vocalizations of the little girl. After a few moments, they wandered back out into the dining room and stopped in front of the table. Alan smiled at the child and nodded.

"Mommy, can Adam and I stay here for a while with Mister Eppes while you and Daddy go for a walk in the park? I need some 'me' time."

Becky's mouth fell open and Ethan looked shocked, but before either of them could say anything Alan chimed in.

"What a wonderful idea, Emily. After we finished cleaning up the dishes we can go out to the pond and feed the Koi."

Alan winked openly at Charlie. Picking up on the point behind their little act, Charlie turned to Becky and Ethan.

"Hey, that's a great idea. Adam and I can watch. When they are done with the fish maybe we could play for a few minutes on the swings at the playground up the road?"

Emily looked at her parents and put on her biggest smile.

"Please, mommy? Can we, please?"

The Burdicks relented after only a moment's hesitation and as the somewhat bewildered couple got into their car and drove away Alan reached down and took Emily by the hand. Charlie was holding Adam in his arms as he turned to his father and the little girl.

"When did you two work out that little arrangement?"

They both smiled at Charlie but didn't answer. As they turned to walk back into the house, Charlie got a whiff of something on the air.

"What on earth is that smell?"

Emily started laughing and Alan just looked pointedly at the baby in his son's arms. Comprehension dawned on Charlie and he looked doubtfully down at the small child lying peacefully against his chest. Charlie bent a little closer to the baby and sniffed, only to pull his face back quickly.

"Oh man."

Alan couldn't help smirking at the face Charlie made and Emily was making little effort to contain her laughter.

"Well ma' boy, the diaper bag is right over there next to the couch."

With his eyes opened wide he looked from his father to the child in his arms.  
"Can't you…….."

Shaking his head, Alan tightened his grip on Emily's hand.

"Come on, Em. We have fish to feed."

Looking more than a little green, Charlie knelt down next to the couch and placed the baby on his back. Picking up the diaper bag, Charlie looked through its contents. Determined to do his part, Charlie studied the garment that covered Adam's diapered bottom. Lifting Adam's legs, trying to figure out how to remove the baby's clothes, he realized he was still being watched. Alan and Emily remained standing not far behind him. They offered no assistance and seemed fascinated by his bewilderment.

Even more determined to successfully complete his objective, Charlie looked over the outfit again and found the snaps that opened the legs, gaining him access to the diaper beneath. Pulling the tabs on either side of the diaper, Charlie pulled the edges back.

He quickly pushed the diaper back down. In all his life, Charlie was certain he had never seen, or smelled, anything so disgusting. Wondering if it was normal for the feces of a human infant to be colorful, Charlie suddenly panicked as he realized what he was about to attempt to do on top of his couch.

As he looked frantically around him trying to decide what he could use to keep anything from falling out of the diaper onto his couch, Emily walked over to the diaper bag.

It was as if she could read Charlie's mind and without a word the child reached into one of the large side pockets, pulling out a small folded pad that was covered in a vinyl like plastic. Adorned with pictures of a popular cartoon character, it was obviously designed for just such a purpose and Charlie smiled gratefully at her as he took the pad and placed it underneath the baby.

Opening the diaper again, Charlie actually had to suppress a gag.

"Holy cra…crud; Ugh. That's gross."

Emily once again reached into the bag and wordlessly pulled out a small container full of baby wipes and a clean diaper. Seeing the calm amusement in the young girl's eyes, Charlie swallowed hard and bit his lower lip determinedly. He was an adult. He could do this. Charlie took a deep breath as if he were preparing for a free dive and continued to pull the diaper away from the baby. At that moment, Adam decided it would be a good idea to roll over and squirm off the couch. Grabbing the baby by the shoulders, Charlie flipped him gently over onto his back. Carefully lifting the pudgy little legs higher into the air, Charlie pulled the soiled diaper out from under the baby and placed it carefully on the floor as if its contents held a communicable disease. Taking a very large handful of wipes, Charlie began to clean up the mess, every once in a while turning his head so he could take a new breath.

Alan and Emily stood by watching Charlie's nearly comical struggles with the diaper and baby, at this point, making no effort to contain their laughter. Once he had deposited the soiled wipes inside the still open diaper, Charlie looked extremely pleased with himself.

"Well, that wasn't so bad."

He lifted the baby up again and slid the clean diaper underneath. Just as he allowed the baby's legs to rest down on either side of the clean diaper, Charlie realized that the thing was on backwards.

"Okay, Eppes. You're the youngest recipient of a Fields metal…you can certainly pull this off."

He lifted the baby up again and reversed the diaper. Setting the child's legs down around either side of the diaper, Charlie was caught completely off guard when a stream of warm liquid hit him directly in the face.

At this point, Alan decided it was time for a rescue and he rushed forward.

"You never leave them naked while you change the diaper, Charlie."

Charlie looked over at his father as if he had grown a second head.

"What? How am I supposed to do that?"

Alan, still chuckling, stepped over to the couch and knelt down on one knee edging in next to Charlie.

"Charlie, you have to cover little boys up with the clean diaper as you clean up the dirty one. Even your old man overlooked that detail on his first attempt."

As he lifted the edge of his t-shirt to wipe off his face, Charlie turned in shock to his father.

"You mean, Don…?"

With a cagey smile, Alan took a clean diaper out and opened it up. He laid the front half over the baby and then holding him by his ankles lifted him up to slide the now saturated diaper out from under him. Grabbing a single wipe he quickly wiped up the wetness on the baby's bottom, the changing pad he was laying on and underneath the clean diaper.

Placing the wipe inside the soiled diaper he wrapped the back side of the clean diaper underneath the baby's bottom and allowed his legs to come down. Then it was just a matter of fastening the strips and he was done. Alan stood and picked up the baby.

"I'll get a clean romper on him. You may want to clean up the couch."

………………………………

Becky and Ethan drove down to Lacy Park not far from the Eppes' historical craftsman home. The sun was still shining brightly, but was making its way towards the horizon casting a soft amber glow on everything around them. Walking hand in hand through the trees they felt more relaxed than they had in quite a long time.

The Burdick's had stopped going out when Emily had her first bout with chemotherapy. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, Becky could never relax when she was away from Emily. She always feared that something would happen while they were out enjoying themselves and the sitter would not be able to handle it. She'd never even considered leaving her children with a friend of Ethan's. That just would have been out of the question.

But after spending time with Charlie, she had already grown to trust him like she had never done with any of Ethan's acquaintances. Of course, it helped knowing his brother was in the FBI and that he had been responsible for Emily's safe return to them not that long ago. And now, after meeting and talking to Alan Eppes, the thought that something might happen to her daughter while she was out of her sight had never even entered her mind. She had immediately felt a strong sense of trust for this man. He reminded her of her grandfather because of his calm assurance in everything around him. She breathed deeply and stepped closer to Ethan.

"This is nice. We haven't been……….alone like this in a long time."

Wrapping his arm around her, Ethan squeezed her shoulders tightly.

"Yeah. It feels good."

Stopping at the top of the hill, they turned westward to watch the setting sun and Becky slipped her arm around her husband's back.

"Charlie has turned out to be more than just another wayfaring friend."

"I know, I don't know what I would do… what we would do without him. Those jobs that he asked me about, they weren't just things he didn't have time to get to."

Ethan exhaled loudly and Becky turned, looking up at him with a frown of confusion.

"He has contacts that I will never have, Beck. Even if I _had _found those jobs on my own, without Charlie's endorsement I wouldn't have gotten them."

"Did you ask him to get you those jobs?"

"No. No, he offered to loan us the money to keep the house from being foreclosed on."

"And you said no! Ethan, why?"

"I told you _I_ would take care of us. I don't need a handout."

"It wasn't a handout, Ethan. You said yourself that Charlie was offering to _loan_ you the money."

"I know, but I just… Becky, that isn't my way."

"You _are_ going to take the consulting jobs aren't you?"

Ethan had resumed walking, pulling his wife along with him.

"Ethan!"

He turned and smiled down at her.

"Hey, I may have pride but I'm not stupid. Yes, I took the jobs."

The couple walked on in silence for a while until they came to a small bench under a large maple tree. Becky steered them toward the bench and sat down.

"You know Ethan, Charlie has become more than just a friend to us. Have you noticed how good he is with the kids?"

"What's your point?"

"What are we going to do if we have to spend a lot of time in the hospital with Emmy again? If she's coming out of remission………"

Turning to his wife, Ethan shook his head.

"Beck, don't."

"We have to think about that possibility, Ethan."

Slipping her fingers through his, Becky clasped his hand tightly.

"If she has to go through more chemo and is admitted…with you working extra hours and me at the hospital, what are we going to do about Adam?"

"Becky, I know what you are suggesting and the answer is no."

"Adam likes him, Ethan. He's the first person that Adam has willingly left your arms for."

Pulling his hand away from his wife, Ethan turned to face her.

"Charlie has been a good friend to us, Beck. Better than a good friend. He's starting to feel like family. I won't ask that of him. I can't. We'll have to manage on our own."

"But Ethan…"

"No. He has done enough for us. I will _not_ ask him to take care of our child."

Forcing the exasperated tone from his voice, Ethan put his hand on his wife's knee.

"Look, let's just take this one day at a time. We'll make it through, we always have and as long as we have each other we always will."

………………………………

Alan and Emily were sitting on the grass out in the back yard next to the Koi pond. She asked question after question about the fish. How old they were, what they ate, if they had names and why they all seemed to have different colors. When she asked which ones were boys and which ones were girls, Alan had run out of answers.

Charlie stood just inside the doorway and watched his father interact with the little girl. A little tickle of guilt started somewhere in the pit of his stomach as Charlie realized what a fantastic grandfather Alan was going to make…….if he or Don ever got around to starting a family. Adam twisted in his arms and started to whine, becoming more and more fussy. Unsure of what the issue could be, Charlie brought the baby back to the living room. After laying a towel down on the couch first, then the changing pad, he checked to see if the problem was a wet or messy diaper, but it was clean and dry at the moment.

'_Okay, Sherlock. You're a genius, figure this out. It isn't a diaper issue, he had a bottle an hour and a half ago, he is being held in a secure and comfortable fashion. So what is it?"_

Switching Adam to the other side of his body, Charlie raised one eyebrow at the child.

"Do you miss your mom and dad?"

When the tiny eyes squeezed shut and the small mouth opened expelling a mournful cry, Charlie sighed feeling dejected.

"You just don't like me, do you?"

Charlie got up and carried Adam into the kitchen. Pulling the last bottle out of the cooler section of the diaper bag, he watched as Adam's eyes followed.

"So you're hungry then. Well, let's get this thing warmed up."

The pan of warm water was still on the stove from the first bottle Alan had heated up and Charlie turned on the burner, placing the glass formula bottle in the pan.

When he turned away from the stove without the bottle, Adam's cries became more insistent. Charlie tried talking to him while they waited for the bottle to warm up and soon found himself unconsciously bouncing gently in time with his own voice.

"Hey there, Little Buddy. I know you're hungry, but you just need to hang in here with me for a few more minutes. They tell me you've got to warm this stuff up. You don't want cold formula do you? I wouldn't want cold formula, no sir. I'm not really sure I'd want formula at all. But to each their own, right?"

The sound of Charlie's voice began to calm the baby's cries and before long the bottle was ready. Following Alan's example to the letter, Charlie checked to make sure it hadn't gotten too hot before he gave the bottle to the baby.

Adam reached his hands up for the bottle and greedily pulled it to his mouth.

"So that _was_ the problem. You were hungry again."

Adam pulled the bottle closer, putting his tiny hands just under Charlie's.

"Can you hold the bottle yourself?"

Charlie tentatively let go but the baby's hands were not strong enough to hold the bottle alone. It dropped out of his mouth and he immediately began to cry.

"Oh, sorry. It's all right, Little Buddy. I'll help you hold it. It's okay."

As soon as Charlie lifted the bottle back up, Adam's cries ceased and he once again attacked the bottle with relish. Charlie found himself watching the baby with fascination. He was utterly amazed at how perfect his little charge was. His tiny fingernails were perfectly shaped as was his faultless button nose. He had intense blue eyes that look up at Charlie with complete trust through a set of long, perfectly shaped eyelashes. As Adam relived the bottle of its contents, his eyelids began drooping and he raised his left hand up to cover his eyes. His eager drinking slowed as he began to fall asleep.

Almost afraid to breathe, Charlie watched the eyelids close and soon the tiny hand dropped onto his chest. Very carefully, Charlie pulled the bottle out of the baby's slack mouth and set it down on the kitchen counter. He saw a small drop of white formula in the corner of his mouth and grabbed a dish towel to dab at it. Feeling immensely pleased with himself, Charlie decided a short walk out to the backyard might be a good idea. But before he reached the door, Adam began to squirm in his arms. After a moment the baby scrunched up his face and much to Charlie's surprise because to squall.

Charlie felt of the diaper trying to determine if it was wet now, but he was sure that couldn't be the problem After all he hadn't cried like this when his diaper was overflowing with…..stuff. Nevertheless, he took him back to the couch and laid the baby down on his back which caused him to cry even louder. Giving up on the diaper idea, Charlie picked Adam back up and cradled him in his arms. It occurred to him that perhaps one bottle was not enough. But there were no more bottles to warm up.

He quickly made his way back out to the kitchen to see if there was a little formula left in the bottle on the counter, but he found that it was quite empty. Adam's cries grew even more hysterical and Charlie was starting to feel a little frantic himself when his father and Emily came in through the back door.

"He just started crying like this. Dad, I don't know what to do here. His diaper is clean; he has just finished the last bottle, so now what?"

Alan smiled calmly at his son despite the frantic cries that filled the room. Taking the baby from him, Alan reached over to the counter and grabbed the dish towel. Flipping it over his shoulder, he placed the baby up over the towel and began to gently pat his back. After a moment Adam let out a belch that surpassed anything Charlie had ever heard before and a glob of formula ran from his mouth all over the dish towel.

Alan then calmly took Adam off his shoulder and wiped the spit-up from the child's mouth before tossing the towel in the sink.

He handed the now content and very sleepy baby back to his son.

"After a baby eats you have to burp him."

Charlie looked at his father in open amazement.

"They have to be burped?"

Alan raised his eyebrows at Charlie, shaking his head and smiling.

"It's not as easy as it looks, is it?"

As he and Emily headed out of the kitchen to the living room, Charlie could have sworn he heard his retreating parent chuckling under his breath as the swinging door closed behind him.

When Ethan and Becky Burdick returned to the house less than an hour later, they were shocked to find all the lights were turned down and the house was silent. The television was on and Emily was curled up on the couch, her head resting against Alan's knee. Charlie was sitting in the brown recliner, rocking gently, with Adam fast asleep on his shoulder.

"Wow, you got him to sleep."

Ethan seemed surprised by this fact and Charlie watched as Becky turned to him as if to say 'See, I told you so.' Then she walked over to Charlie and took the sleeping baby from his arms.

"Any problems?"

Charlie looked at his dad and Emily who both smiled back at him, then he turned to Ethan and Becky.

"No, there were no problems. He was a perfect little angel."

…………………………………………………………………………………………

_**TBC**_


	3. Screw Your Courage to the Sticking Place

**Chapter Three: Screw Your Courage to the Sticking Place **

Don turned to look towards the door of the kitchen, picturing Charlie's sleeping face. Even in a state of peace, he had looked so….haunted. Don knew there was a lot more to this story, but he still felt the need to interrupt his father and clarify the origin of the child that Charlie seemed so in-sync with.

"So Adam is Ethan and Becky's son?"

Alan nodded and Don sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"Thank God. I thought Emily was the Burdick's only child. What with the blond hair on that kid out there, I was starting to think Susan Berry had reappeared and dumped an unexpected surprise in Charlie's lap."

His father smiled and shaking his head quickly stood.

"No such luck."

Alan walked across the kitchen to the refrigerator and opened the door sticking his head in.

"I think that might have come as less of a shock. That, we could have handled with no trouble at all."

With his eyebrows drawn together, Don pulled himself to his feet and walked over to the kitchen counter. He intended to ask his father to elaborate on that statement, but he stopped when he realized Alan had started to pull various breakfast items from the refrigerator.

"Dad, I told you. All I need is coffee."

"Nonsense. You look like you haven't eaten since you left."

Pulling a baking sheet from the cabinet under the counter, Alan turned to his eldest son.

"They did feed you didn't they?"

Don gave a half hearted smile and ran a hand through his mangy hair, turning his eyes to the floor. After what he had gone through in Colombia, his father's unconcealed love and concern brought a lump to his throat.

"Donnie? Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I really don't."

When his father raised his eyebrows at him in shock at his bluntness, Don restated his answer.

"I will….I'd just rather wait until I can tell you and Charlie at the same time. I've already been through the whole thing once for debriefing, and I'd rather not repeat it just now."

As Alan turned ruefully toward the counter, he shrugged his shoulders and began measuring flour into a large bowl that he had pulled from the cabinet over his head.

"Sure, Donnie. I didn't mean to push."

He paused to dig the rolling pin out of the cupboard.

"You really do look…..unwell."

A genuine smile spread over Don's face, reaching his eyes.

"I'm really okay, Dad. I'm just damn glad to be home."

Leaning over the counter, Don grabbed the stick of butter that Alan had pulled from the refrigerator. Alan handed him a cutting board and a knife and Don cut the butter into several small pieces which he handed back to his father.

"Tell me more about Emily. You said they thought maybe she was coming out of remission?"

At the mention of the little girl's name, Alan's eyes drew up in a sorrowful expression and Don instantly regretted his inquiry. But then his father tossed the butter into the bowl, grabbed the buttermilk which he poured without measuring and began to speak.

"Well, it was a few weeks after we had the Burdick's over for dinner that Charlie got an unusual phone call."

**………………………………..**

2 ½ Months Ago

**………………………………...**

Charlie was sitting at the dining room table, half awake, staring into a cup of black coffee when the house phone rang disturbing the tranquility of the morning. Hoping to grab the phone before it woke his father; Charlie lurched to his feet, banging one knee on the table. Suddenly wide awake and cursing to himself, Charlie viciously grabbed the receiver fully prepared to give the early morning caller a piece of his mind.

"Yeah?"

"Uh…I um…"

A vaguely familiar, soft-spoken female voice diminished his anger.

"I was trying to reach Charlie Eppes. I'm sorry; I must have the wrong number?"

"No, no."

Trying to place the voice, Charlie interjected.

"You just….caught me at a bad time."

"I'm terribly sorry, Charlie. I shouldn't have called."

Turning to the clock to verify the early hour, Charlie suddenly recognized the voice.

"Becky?"

It was only six thirty in the morning and Ethan was usually the one who called him. This thought set his heart pounding.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Oh, Charlie. No. It's not an emergency or anything."

Becky Burdick's voice was soft and quiet as if she were trying not to be overheard.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, I was awake. I just wasn't... awake."

He laughed trying to lighten the mood that his hostile greeting had set for the conversation.

"What's going on?"

"Well,"

Becky continued on in a whisper and Charlie cut her off.

"I'm sorry, Becky… I can hardly hear you."

"I'm sorry, Charlie. I didn't want Ethan to…."

She stopped and Charlie drew his eyebrows together in concern. Ethan didn't know she was calling and it was six thirty in the morning on a day that Charlie happened to know his friend had a consulting job to report for. This couldn't be good.

"Becky, you know you can call me anytime; day or night. Ethan's not the only Burdick I consider a friend."

She laughed nervously on the other end of the line.

"You may change your mind when all is said and done."

"Try me."

"I need someone to watch Adam this morning."

After the initial request, Becky continued; speeding through the explanation as if she were trying to get through it before he was able to say no.

"It wouldn't be for long. Just an hour or two at the most… It's just that Mrs. Harper across the street canceled and, well…Adam doesn't go for very many people, not the way he did for you. I would never ask you and Ethan told me not to, but I don't know what else to do."

"Ethan told you not to?"

"He didn't think we should...well, I just don't want you to think that I'm turning into a leech, I don't like to take advantage of a…"

Charlie cut her off mid sentence. "Can you bring him over here?"

He smiled at her audible sigh of relief and continued.  
"I have a few things to do before my afternoon class, but I can take care of Adam while I'm going over my lecture."

"Thank you so much, Charlie. It shouldn't take long, Emily and I just have to run in and get the results of her bone marrow biopsy. With all these new HIPPA laws they can't tell you everything's fine over the phone anymore."

The word biopsy sent a shiver down Charlie's spine and he was amazed at the casual way Becky threw it into the conversation.

"I hate dragging Adam into the clinic and I always try to take notes so Ethan will know what the doctor said and sometimes it's just so hard..."

Her voice had increased a little in pitch and Charlie interrupted her again.

"Becky, it's no problem. My first class doesn't start until one thirty, okay?"

"Okay. Our appointment is for eight?"

"That's fine. I'll see you shortly."

Charlie hung up the phone and returned to the dining room table. If Emily Burdick's doctor had made her endure another bone marrow biopsy that must mean that he had found something in her blood to indicate that she might be coming out of remission.

Wondering why Ethan had failed to mention the procedure to him, Charlie grabbed his coffee mug and made his way up the stairs. While he had spent a fair amount of time with Ethan and his family; it had been almost three weeks since he'd last attempted a diaper change and he sure as heck wasn't going to try it in his favorite flannel pajamas.

When the Burdick's burgundy sedan pulled into the driveway almost a full hour later, Charlie opened the door and walked out onto the front step. Emily waved at him furiously from the backseat of the car as Becky opened the door and pulled Adam, baby seat and all, from the backseat.

"Thank you so much for this, Charlie. I didn't want Ethan to have to cancel his first meeting for this new job and if I'd told him I was going to call you…."

"You're welcome."

Charlie reached out and grabbed the handle of the baby carrier. Leaning down to the window, Charlie smiled at the child in the backseat.

"How ya doing, kiddo?"

Her eyes looked tired, but Emily still gave him a bright smile. Then she cupped her hand to her mouth as if telling him a secret.

"The doctor didn't like my red blood cells this week."

Nodding to indicate his understanding, Charlie stood upright and shot Becky a look of intent concern as he took the diaper bag from her.

"There's plenty of formula in there and at least six clean bottles in the bottom. Diapers and wipes on the side and there are several changes of clothes in there too. Oh, there's also a baby sling stuffed into the bottom…I didn't get a chance to take it back out, so don't think it's a strange new blanket or something."

Charlie could see a low grade fear just under her casual dictation of babysitting instructions. She was going to find out if her daughter had full blown leukemia again, but she was hiding her anxiety well as she circled the car and climbed back into the driver's seat. Leaving any suspicions as to Emily's possible relapse unspoken, Charlie leaned over and put a reassuring hand on Becky's arm.

"Don't be upset by Ethan's reluctance to request help from me or anyone else for that matter. Sometimes we men forget to ask… its a guy thing."

"You're one hell of a guy then, Charlie."

Charlie could see the strain was mounting for Becky as she glanced at the clock on the dash board. Charlie stepped away from the vehicle as she put the transmission in reverse.

"Take your time. I don't need to leave here until around one."

Becky offered a strained smile that held unshed tears at bay.

"Thanks, Charlie. We should only be an hour or so."

"We'll be here when you get back."

Standing and watching the sedan drive away, Charlie looked at the tiny pair of bright blue eyes that were looking up at him.

"Well, kid, it looks like we've got the whole morning. What do you babies do for fun, anyway?"

Adam gurgled up at him and shook his tiny fist in the air. Then Charlie heard a sound that Le Pétomane, the performing flautist, would have been proud of.

"Oh. I see."

When Alan walked into the living room he wrinkled up his nose at an unexpected odor that seemed to permeate the space.

"Charlie? What is that smell?"

"Dad."

Charlie's head shot up from the other side of the couch.

"What are you doing back…." Leaning over the back of the couch, Alan cut himself off mid sentence. "Oh. Well, hello there."

A bath towel covered the cushion and the vinyl changing pad covered that and on top of it all was Adam Burdick.

"Becky had to take Emily to the doctor, and she couldn't find a babysitter. I was trying to let you sleep in. Sorry if we woke you."

Charlie had just finished cleaning up what must have been, from the smell, a monumentally disgusting diaper.

"You didn't wake me, Charlie. Is Emily okay?"

Charlie's eyes drew together and he frowned.

"I'm not sure. I guess we'll find out soon enough. They should be back shortly."

Fastening the new diaper onto the wiggling baby, Charlie was surprised when he got the fit right the first time.

"Hey, I think I'm getting the hang of this."

………………………………

"Ethan's not answering his cell and I don't have an alternate number to reach him."

The doctor leaned forward and looked earnestly at the woman in front of him.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Burdick. This is difficult news to hear and I know you don't want to do this test without your husband. But if Emily is, in fact, out of remission, we need to start treatment again right away. We need to do the lumbar puncture immediately to check the cerebrospinal fluid for leukemia cells."

"Its okay, Mommy; I can do this. I think I can…"

The child scrunched up her face in thought for a moment then her features smoothed out and she offered a small smile. "I _know_ I can."

Becky had to fight back her tears as she turned her eyes to her eight year old daughter.

Emily, her precious baby girl; she was so brave and so strong and now once again, she was sick, perhaps dying. She had already suffered so much fighting her way through numerous needle sticks, rounds of chemotherapy and a bone marrow transplant.

A second event lowered her chances of survival to thirty percent. The doctor had presented them with those numbers shortly after Emily's last spinal tap. But she and Ethan had promised Emily that they wouldn't keep the details of her illness and it's treatment from her and living up to that promise was proving to be harder than Becky had ever imagined.

"Baby, you know what this means?"

Emily gave her mother a silent nod. With her mind focused solely on her daughter, Becky bit back the sob that was rising in her chest and turned to the doctor.

"Okay. Let's do it."

………………………………

"DAD!"

Charlie's voice rang up the stairs and Alan's heart leaped at the urgency in his tone.

He rushed from his bedroom and headed down the stairs without stopping for his tie and jacket which were still draped over the end of his bed. In the middle of the foyer, Alan stopped.

"Charlie, what is it?"

"Dad, you've got to see this!"

Exasperated by his over-reaction to Charlie's call, Alan marched into the front room only to stop cold in the doorway.

Adam Burdick was on his hands and knees slowly and determinedly crawling his way across the floor toward Charlie. The idiosyncratic mathematician looked up at his father, his face wearing an expression of both apprehension and wonder.

"Should I stop him?"

Alan looked at his son in bafflement. "What on earth for, Charlie?"

His youngest son shrugged his shoulders. "Well, he could fall."

"Yes, he could."

"Then why….."

"Because that's how you learn, Charlie."

Smiling timidly at his father, Charlie's expression relaxed a little. From where he was kneeling on the floor, Charlie kept his eyes on the tiny little person working so hard to keep himself in motion.

"Come on, Adam. You can make it."

Recognizing his name, the baby seemed even more determined to make it to his prize and Charlie got more excited as Adam moved closer and closer to him. After moving forward a few inches the baby would stop and rock backward and forward on his knees as if working up enough steam to make the next actual forward movement. Charlie reached out to the baby but only a few feet from Charlie's outstretched hands, his knees slid out from under him and he went down face first into the soft carpet.

Charlie leaned forward and grabbed him under his arms, pulling him to his chest. Much to his surprise, Adam didn't cry. Instead he gurgled softly, grabbed a handful of Charlie's hair and pulled.

"Ow."

"They're stronger than they look, Charlie.

"I noticed."

Alan turned back to the stairs and Charlie pulled himself to his feet, cradling Adam in his arms.

"I can't wait to tell Ethan and Becky that he crawled."

Stopping mid step, Alan turned back to his son.

"Oh, Charlie; I wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Just trust me, Charlie. Let them take him home, he'll crawl again for them and they'll think it was the first time. That's not something parents like to miss."

"Oh."

Following Alan up the steps, Charlie looked more closely at his father's attire.

"Are you going somewhere?"

Grabbing his tie from the foot of the bed, Alan slung the thin sliver of silk around his neck.

"As a matter of fact, I am. Don't you remember? I told you yesterday, I have a lunch meeting with a client. I'm sorry, Charlie. This isn't something I can cancel."

As Alan put his jacket on and straightened his shoulders, he expected Charlie to object to his leaving. But instead the young man turned and walked out of the bedroom door, patting Adam gently on the back.

"Well, Little Buddy. I guess it's just you and me then. Come on; let's go see what's for lunch."

Alan smiled warmly as he watched his son's retreating back. His hopes for grandchildren had been rekindled as he saw how Charlie, of all people, had adjusted so well to caring for the baby. Granted he was only responsible for Adam in small increments of time, but Charlie seemed to be a natural and genuinely appeared to enjoy having the baby around. Alan's heart filled with an unencumbered joy as he listened to Charlie talking to the baby as he carried him down the stairs. It hadn't escaped Alan's attention that his son had begun to refer to Adam as 'Little Buddy'. Wondering what Don would think of this development, Alan checked his appearance one last time and hurried out the door.

It was a quarter after twelve before Charlie started to get nervous. Becky hadn't called and he had to leave in forty minutes if he intended to make it to class in time. Stopping in front of the phone, Charlie contemplated calling Ethan's cell phone but quickly reconsidered. Ethan needed this job. Calling him away from his first meeting with the client would be unforgivable. Running through a mental list of everyone he knew, Charlie crossed off the ones he wouldn't trust to feed the Koi while he was out of town. Besides Don and his team, that left him with three people. Larry, Amita and one of the professors from the cosmology department whose name he couldn't remember.

Crossing off the cosmologist on principle, Charlie had to accept that both Amita and Larry would be at CalSci already. Swallowing his pride, Charlie picked up the phone and dialed Megan's number. She answered after one ring.

"Reeves."

"Megan, its Charlie."

"My friend Charlie! How are you?"

"Oh, fine. How are you with kids?"

"Charlie, I'm flattered."

Laughing off her cynicism, Charlie glanced at the baby in his arms. "I need a babysitter for like the next four hours."

"For you or someone else?"

He could hear the laugher in her voice and he could picture David or Colby nearby giving her a questioning look.

"For me; for someone else."

"Right… you're serious?"

Glancing at the clock, Charlie nodded into the phone. "Yeah, I'm kind of in a bit of a pickle here."

"And I'm kinda at a stake-out, here."

In the background he heard Colby's voice.

"He's moving."

"I gotta go, Charlie."

Without waiting for the call to disconnect, Charlie hung up the phone.

Looking at the clock again and then at the half asleep infant in his arms, Charlie sighed.

"Well, Little Buddy. I guess you and I are going to teach a class together."

………………………………

Sitting near the back of the lecture hall, Annabeth Corley leaned back in her seat and stared at the blank chalk board in the front of the room.

"How long do we wait for him?"

Misty Gamble, a fellow graduate student dropped her backpack and took a seat nearby.

"A regular teacher gets ten minutes. A professor gets twenty and you're supposed to give a doctor thirty. Then if they don't show up, we can leave."

"But finals are only a month away. He can't _'not show up'_."

A young man a few rows up turned and shot the two girls a dirty look.

"That's ridiculous. Doctor Eppes has never just _'not shown up'_. If he can't make it he'll send someone to give the lecture."

Misty shrugged her shoulders. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

"Yes, there is."

The unconcealed amazement in Annabeth's voice turned their heads toward the front of the room.

Doctor Charles Eppes had just entered the room, looking more discombobulated than any of his students had ever seen him and carrying a very colorful satchel that appeared to be a diaper bag. Besides this colorful new bag, his own worn satchel was also draped over his shoulder and a navy blue baby carrier car seat was being supported in the crook of his right arm.

"Oh my God; when did that happen?"

As they watched him make his way to the front of the room carefully transporting his precious cargo, one of the girls sighed loudly.

"I don't know, but I think that may be the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

"Should we see if he needs some help?"

As he gently set the baby seat up on the table, the overflowing diaper bag tipped over and diapers, wipes and several assorted baby toys spilled out. Charlie lifted his eyes to the back of the room. Silence had swept through the lecture hall like a tidal wave and Charlie felt a smile creep over his face at his student's stunned reaction to this incident. Taking a deep breath, Charlie pushed the diaper bag's contents aside and addressed his class.

"Good afternoon. Shall we pretend there is not a four month old infant on my table and let's talk about advanced game theory? Can anyone give me an example of how this mathematical theory can have applications to military warfare?"

Most of the class continued to stare at him with their mouths hanging open, but an older student near the front of the room took pity on him and began to explain game theory and control theory in comparative detail. Charlie dropped into his chair and pulled his notebooks from his satchel trying to gather his thoughts.

Adam was reclined in his seat watching him as if he were expecting something. The baby was holding tightly to his feet and as Charlie watched, he pulled one sock off and stuck his foot into his mouth. Trying to contain a laugh, Charlie turned his attention back to the orating student. A gurgling coo from the carrier seat pulled his eyes back toward the table.

Adam seemed to be vying for his attention and each time Charlie tried to focus on his class, the baby made some new effort to draw his interest back to him. When Charlie stood and walked to the blackboard to illustrate the theory that his class would be taking their final on, he moved out of Adam's line of sight and within seconds the baby made the whole class aware of his displeasure.

Adam's initial bellow preceded a round of tittering laughter from most of the female students in the class. Leaning over the car seat, Charlie looked down at the red faced baby.

"Come on, Little Buddy. Give me break here."

"Excuse me, Doctor Eppes?"

One of his favorite students was making her way toward the front of the room.

"Yes, Kathy?"

"Do you need some help getting that sling on?"

"Sling?"

Charlie looked at her questionably as she pulled the baby papoose from where it was sticking out of the overturned diaper bag.

"Oh, yes."

He lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Do you think that would help?"

With a smile and a nod, the young woman stepped directly in front of him to drape the blue linen wrap over his shoulders. It only took her a few minutes to properly envelop his upper body with the sling and lift the crying baby into the proper position. By the time everything was in place all of the ladies in the class were staring at their professor as if he were the most astoundingly remarkable thing they had ever seen and most of the men were rolling their eyes and laughing.

"Thank you, Kathy."

Turning to his class, Charlie smiled in spite of the blush that has risen in his cheeks.

"Shall we try this again?"

As Charlie continued with his lecture, he moved over to the chalkboard and began to illustrate the game theory equations. Securely attached to a solid warm body, Adam stopped crying almost instantly. The familiar voice of the math professor, in time with the beating of his heart, filled the child's ears. Content with his environment, Adam was soon sound asleep.

Charlie had a fifteen minute break in-between the first and second lecture and he took that time to feed Adam a warm bottle. He found that if he sat down while the baby was nestled in the papoose the baby was in the perfect position to be fed. The sight of Charlie sitting in the teacher's lounge feeding the happily suckling baby stopped almost every professor dead in their tracks as soon as they walked in the door.

When the Dean of Students walked in, he was as surprised as anyone else but kept his face neutral. He had heard the buzz on campus that Professor Eppes of the Math Department was now a father and quite frankly, he didn't believe it. He had decided to take a walk down to the young professor's classroom when he heard about the commotion in the teacher's lounge. He sat down next to Charlie just as he raised the baby out of the sling to burp him.

"Professor Eppes, I would never choose to intrude on any of my faculty's personal lives…"

"Dean Cummings, you don't understand…"

The Dean held up his hand. "I don't need to understand. I just wanted to let you know that CalSci actually has a small day care center on the far end of the west quad. It has a small staff and only a handful of people use its services, but it is there to make life easier for our young parents when they have no alternative arrangements."

Charlie's eyes grew wide at this statement. He had been at CalSci for a little over ten years and he never knew that the university had a day care.

He never got the chance to explain to the Dean that this was not going to be a permanent situation and that he was only babysitting, since Adam chose that moment to let out a huge belch and spit up all over the cloth on Charlie's shoulder. While Charlie cleaned up and repositioned the baby in the papoose, the Dean got up from the table and walked out of the teacher's lounge; at a complete loss for words.

The next few hours of lectures went off without a hitch and when Charlie released his final group of students, Adam was, once again, fast asleep in the loosely bound wrap. Despite his now aching back, Charlie decided it would be best to leave the baby where he was. Tossing the diaper bag and his satchel back over his shoulder and dangling the carrier seat loosely from his right arm, Charlie headed out of the hall and across the quad toward his office.

"Charlie Eppes! Is there something you've neglected to tell me?"

Amita Ramajuan had been sitting under a silver maple in the middle of the quad and as she pulled herself to her feet and headed in his direction, several nearby students lifted their heads to see what the fuss was about. Charlie grinned at her, but replied in a whisper for fear of waking the warm bundle that was nuzzled up against his chest.

"Meet Adam."

She stopped in front of him and pulled back the edge of the wrap.

"Oh, Charlie. How precious."

Another voice spoke up from behind him.

"I heard a buzz about something interesting happening in the teacher's lounge earlier in the afternoon. Wherever did you get him, Charles?"

"Where did I get him?"

Turning, he gave his friend and colleague a cockeyed stare.

"Well. I picked him up on E-Bay last week, Larry. Didn't I tell you?"

Taking a step back, Larry put his hands in the pockets of his corduroy blazer.

"Aren't we facetious today?"

Shaking his head and smiling, Charlie turned toward the older man.

"His name is Adam Burdick."

Amita narrowed her eyes at him dubiously.

"Burdick? As in Ethan Burdick, the mathematician that almost proved the Riemann's Hypothesis?"

Clasping his hands together in front of his face, Larry peered in at the baby.

"I thought you said he'd given up on Riemann's?"

"Not given up, Larry…just moved to the back burner. Ethan has some other things going on right now."

"Where did I get the notion that you had lectures this afternoon, Charles?"

His feet and back were aching from spending the last several hours walking around wearing a baby and Charlie continued into the math building hoping his friends would follow.

"I did have lectures this afternoon, Larry."

Amita shot him a puzzled glance.

"Why didn't you use the West Quad Daycare Center, Charlie?"

Stopping in front of the main elevator, he turned and raised one eyebrow at her.

"That would have something to do with the fact that I had no idea there was a daycare here, at least until the Dean told me about it. Does everyone besides me know about this daycare on campus?"

Amita's eyes widened with surprise.

"The Dean? Dean Cummings told you about the daycare? When was this?"

"That would be the 'buzz of something interesting' that Larry was referring to. I had to feed him and the lounge seemed like a good place to do so."

Charlie shrugged his shoulders as he pushed the button on the wall to call the elevator.

"If this was something I intended to make a habit of, I'd look into it. But I'm afraid Adam won't be joining me for class again any time soon."

This statement was puncuated by Charlie arching his back slightly to stretch the muscles and to compensate for having a fifteen pound weight dragging his upperbody and shoulder forward for the last four hours.

Watching a group of female students amble past them gazing in silent admiration at Charlie, Amita couldn't help but smile.

"There _are_ better ways to meet women, Charlie.….."

"Hey, I'm just doing a favor for…"

When he caught sight of the wide grin she was wearing he stopped talking and shook his head at her. Without waiting for him to spout a snappy comeback, she headed past him for the stairwell door.

"I have far too much to do to wait for the elevator. I'll see you two later."

Larry turned and headed down the hall the other way.

"I concur. Have a pleasant evening, Charles."

Normally Charlie would have taken the stairs to his third floor office, but the bundle next to his chest was starting to wiggle. It had been three hours since Adam had his last bottle and Charlie knew he'd be lucky if he got another ten minutes before the little guy woke up and demanded his next meal. If he was extremely fortunate, that would give him just enough time to head up to his office, pick up his folders for the next day's classes and hurry home.

Stepping onto the elevator, Charlie checked his cell phone for missed calls. Deeply concerned that there were none, Charlie didn't hesitate to dial Ethan's cell this time. When Ethan's voice mail picked up, Charlie flipped his phone shut and dropped it back into his bag. Clearly something must have happened during Emily's appointment with her Oncologist and if neither Becky nor Ethan had called him yet, Charlie dreaded finding out what the results of that appointment were.

………………………………

It was after seven when Ethan Burdick pulled into his driveway. It was only day one and he had already managed to impress the management with his mathematical analysis of computer imaging technology. Feeling content with himself for the first time in as long as he could remember, Ethan opened his door... then stopped cold when Becky's car pulled in behind him; his moment of elation quickly forgotten. The sudden recollection that Emily's doctor had asked them to come in this morning assailed him and Ethan felt monumentally ashamed for his lapse in memory. From his wife's tear streaked face, Ethan didn't have to ask how the appointment had gone.

"Oh, God. Beck?"

His wife leaned forward over the steering wheel and Ethan could see her shoulders shaking as sobs wracked her body. Opening the door, Ethan pulled his wife from the car and folded her into his arms, holding her tightly to his chest. Smoothing her hair down, Ethan looked over her shoulder into the back seat of the car. His daughter Emily looked gaunt and far paler than she had when he had kissed her goodbye early that morning.

Becky raised her head and met his eyes.

"They're starting her on intracranial radiation therapy next week and she had her first round of chemo this afternoon. He thinks we may have caught it pretty early but…."

Becky's voice broke and another series of anguished sobs shook her narrow shoulders.

Leading his wife to the front step, Ethan lowered Becky down onto the stoop. Only when he returned to the sedan to get Emily did he consciously realized that Adam was not in the car. Carrying his daughter past Becky and into the house, Ethan fought back his own tears. They thought they were going to be prepared for this scenario, but now Ethan knew you could never prepare yourself to get this kind of news twice. Determined to keep it together, Ethan went through the motions of putting his exhausted daughter to bed. His family needed him to be strong right now. As he backed out of his daughter's room and quietly closed the door, Ethan stopped in the hall to gather his thoughts.

"Oh my God!"

Becky's strangled cry set his feet in motion and Ethan ran back out into the living room where his wife was kneeling on the floor.

"Beck? What?"

"Adam."

She lifted her head, strands of her straight black hair hanging in her eyes.

"Oh my God, Ethan. I forgot Adam."

Terrified by her expression of absolute despair, Ethan knelt down next to his wife and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"You forgot him? What do you mean, you forgot him?"

She opened her mouth to reply but a sob caught in her throat and nothing came out. Resisting the urge to slap his wife in the face, Ethan put his hands on either side of her head and forced her to look him in the eye.

"Becky? Where is my son?"

………………………………

When Charlie saw the headlights pulling into the driveway, he turned and met his father's eyes.

"You should go talk to him, Charlie. Give me the baby."

Adam was three quarters of the way through his second bottle since they'd gotten home and Charlie slid the child from his arms and onto his father's lap.

"What do I say?"

Alan shook his head at him wearily.

"I can't tell you that, Charlie. But Ethan needs you to be his friend right now."

As Charlie reached the front door, he could hear his father as he began humming softly to the baby. The tune was familiar and it somehow steadied Charlie's heart as he opened the door.

Ethan stood in the doorway; the cold, detached expression on his pallid face was almost more than Charlie could stand. Don had looked at him like that. He'd come out into the garage to tell him that mom was gone and Charlie had turned from the chalkboard to stare at him in disbelief. And Don had looked almost the same as Ethan did now.

"Thanks for keeping an eye on Adam, Charlie."

"Ethan?"

"I'd better get him home."

"Ethan?"

The older man raised his eyes and Charlie could see the tears brimming behind the swollen lids.

"Thirty percent, Charlie. At this point, she has less than a thirty percent chance of surviving this."

Feeling an overwhelmingly strong surge of emotion rising in his chest, Charlie tried to swallow it back down.

"She... its back then?"

Ethan nodded and a disparaging chortle escaped his lips.

"They've already started chemo again. That's why Becky forgot about…"

He stopped speaking and took a step back onto the front walk. Charlie followed, closing the door behind him.

"Adam is fine. Ethan, I took care of it."

"She forgot about our son, Charlie."

"Ethan."

When his friend sat down on the steps and began to sob, Charlie stood behind him for a moment; unsure as to what his next action should be. Remembering the moments that he thought he would die simply from the pain of losing his mother, Charlie had to force himself not to imagine Ethan's level of suffering. Instead he sat down next to his friend, placed his hand comfortingly on his shoulder, as Don had done with him on that fateful day in the garage, and just let Ethan cry.

**_TBC _**


	4. Second Star to the Right

**Chapter Four: Second Star to the Right**

When Alan paused to put the baking sheet into the oven and set the timer, Don took advantage of the silence to contemplate what the Burdick's situation must have done to Charlie.

His brother had been unable to sit and watch their own mother die of cancer. He had endured it as long as he could, but then he had withdrawn. Their mother seemed to have understood, but Don never could wrap his mind around the reasons behind Charlie's retreat and why he had chosen to spend the last three months of her life locked in the garage working on an unsolvable math problem. And now a little girl, who he apparently had grown attached to, was suffering the same fate and Charlie had willingly put himself in the position to be forced to watch another life deteriorate.

Still, his brother was lying on the couch, holding a baby. He looked tired, but he didn't look like he had stopped eating as he had done during their mother's final days and while he hadn't actually been out there yet he suspected that chalk dust wasn't floating in the air around the garage like a cloud. In fact, none of the usual signs of P vs. NP were present, only the deep circles under the eyes of both of his family members. Don leaned forward across the counter and ran his hands over his face.

"Oh, man."

Alan pulled a skillet from the cabinet next to the stove.

"There were a couple of pretty rough weeks there for a while."

"Yeah, I can imagine. I remember what it was like when Mom was… ...well, I remember."

Don grabbed the cheese grater from where Alan had left it on the countertop and his father handed him a bowl and the large block of cheddar he had removed from the refrigerator.

"Dad. You didn't really let Charlie……….." He had started speaking before he realized what he was about to say and Don cut himself off mid sentence. But his tone had given away his meaning and Alan turned to his oldest son, shaking his head.

"I didn't '_let'_ Charlie do what? You mean the same way I '_let'_ you run off after some drug cartel? Yeah, Don. I did. I '_let'_ him get emotionally involved with a very nice family that was suffering from the impending devastation of a terminal illness. Your brother wanted to help them. He was more determined to help Ethan get through this than I've ever seen him about anything, even P vs NP."

Grabbing the carton of eggs from the counter, Alan began to crack them into a small bowl, tossing the shells haphazardly across the room into the garbage can. Watching as his father began to viciously beat the eggs with a fork, Don felt his guilt re-ignite.

"I didn't mean it like that. Really, Dad, I just… my God. How did he expect to help them? Charlie's not equipped for that. He can't stand to watch people suffer. And a little girl?"

Alan stopped beating the eggs and turned to face Don directly. He studied his son's face trying to gauge what he should say.

"You don't give Charlie enough credit, Donnie. He is made of tougher stuff than you think. Your mother died over four years ago. He was a different person then...  
...you were different brothers then. The rift that you have both worked to mend between you has done more than allow you both to find each other, it has changed you in ways that each of you are still discovering. Charlie found the strength to face something that he couldn't before that rift was healed.  
Don't misunderstand me here, Donnie. The past couple of months have been some of the most difficult times that Charlie has ever faced, but knowing that you were… that you _are_ a strong part of his life was one of the things that gave him the resolve that was required to be the strong one, to be the rock that Ethan and Becky needed to lean on."

Alan turned back to the counter and cut another small pat of butter from the stick and tossed it into the skillet on the stove.

"He wanted to help Emily too, but I think in the end, she was the one who helped Charlie."

Pushing the bowl of grated cheese across the counter, Don stared intently at his father.

"What do you mean, Emily helped Charlie?"

Alan didn't look up from his cooking but he shook his head with a sad sort of smile on his face.

"If you ever decide to settle down and have children you will find, my son, that they are often the purveyors of the greatest wisdom. There is a reason that the saying exists."

Don looked on confused.

"What saying?"

Alan, once again, looked at his son.

"Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength."

Alan turned his attention back to the butter melting in the skillet as he continued talking.

"It had been almost a month since Emily began the radiation therapy again and things weren't looking so good. Still, Charlie had been spending a lot of time with the family and when Becky got the flu, Ethan ended up calling on Charlie for help."

……………………………… 

**1 ½ Months Ago**

………………………………

When Charlie pulled into the Burdick's driveway, he was surprised to see Emily waiting for him just inside the front door. A paisley scarf adorned her head and a white respirator mask covered her mouth, but Charlie could see the child's wide smile reflected in her bright eyes.

"Charlie!"

Almost before he climbed out of his car, Emily opened the front door and sprinted down the driveway, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

"Hey, kiddo. It's good to see you feeling so well. Where's your dad?'

"He should be working. He has a deadline. But instead he had to go to the store because we were out of diapers and we needed groceries. Mom says that dads are not good at…"

The child turned her eyes upward as if searching her memory for the right word, and then she smiled and looked directly at Charlie continuing in a very knowledgeable voice.

"Dads are not good at multitasking and with two kids and a shopping cart; that would be doing too many things at once for him, because he's a dad. So now he's really behind."

She lowered her voice to a whisper.

"That…and Mom has the flu. Dad thinks she's dangerous because my immune system is compromised. Will you take us to the park so Dad can hear himself think?"

Her matter-of-fact tone was accompanied by a knowing glance that almost made Charlie laugh. Ethan had called him from the grocery store less than an hour ago and the child was quoting that conversation almost word for word.

"That's why I'm here. Where's Adam?"

"Screaming to high heaven and driving Dad crazy."

Emily's upbeat spirit was as contagious as her mother's virus and Charlie had to laugh as he lifted the girl into his arms and carried her back through the front door. Somewhere in the back of the house, a gurgling scream from Adam rang out and Charlie found it extraordinary that he immediately recognized the nature of Adam's cry.

Lately, he'd been spending a lot of time with Ethan and Adam, mostly while Becky and Emily were at the hospital for the little girl's bi-weekly treatments. Adam wasn't the stunning mathematical conversationalist that his father was, but Charlie enjoyed the time he had spent watching the baby develop and he was amazed at how much change had occurred in him over the past several weeks. Still, this was the first time Ethan had called him and straight out asked him to take the kids off his hands so he could have some time to himself and Charlie somehow felt he had accomplished something in that.

Ethan's steadfast insistence that they not burden Charlie with such things had hurt him, although he would never had said so out loud. He understood that Ethan didn't want to impose any more than was necessary, but it still made Charlie feel like his friend might not trust him to care for the children. However, the more time he spent with the family, the more these feelings began to dissolve.

Charlie had noticed Ethan marveling at how well the baby took to him. He was delighted to be the one to show Ethan how to use the baby sling and the two men often took turns with the child attached to their chests as they worked in the den at one of Ethan's white boards.

Following the sounds of Adam's frustrated cries to the nursery at the end of the hall, Charlie knocked lightly on the door before stepping into the brightly decorated room. Ethan was standing over the changing table holding tightly to a pair of chubby ankles. Turning toward the visitor Ethan opened his eyes wide and tried to smile.

"Charlie, thank God. I'm out of diapers in here. There's a new pack in the living room."

Grinning, Charlie turned and walked quickly back down the hall. The pack of diapers was propped against the side of the couch along with the stroller and several bags of groceries, including a gallon of milk that had yet to be put in the refrigerator.

Grabbing the milk with one hand and the diapers with the other, Charlie stepped into the kitchen to put away the milk. The kitchen sink was piled high with dirty dishes, which led Charlie to believe that Becky must be pretty sick. He'd never once seen so much as an empty cup lying around their house and if she'd given Ethan full run of the kitchen, she must be incapable of getting very far from the bedroom. Wondering if he should borrow one of Emily's respirator masks, Charlie made a note to take care of the dishes before he left.

On his way back to the nursery, the door to the Burdick's master bedroom opened and Becky stuck her head out into the hall.

"Oh, Charlie."

The woman looked and sounded like she'd spent the previous night at a Jimmy Buffet concert and Margaritaville had not been good to her.

"Ethan threatened to call you. I didn't know if he really would."

Charlie paused a few feet from her door.

"Yeah, I think the trip to the grocery store was what cinched it for him because according to Emily 'Dads don't multitask'."

Hearing her own words parroted back at her in this way made her laugh, which quickly turned to a wracking cough. With a weak smile, Becky leaned against the doorpost and wrapped her robe tightly around her petite frame.

"You're a lifesaver. You know that, right?"

"So I've been told."

Another incensed scream from the direction of nursery prompted Charlie to move and he passed by the door with his back against the wall. Tucking the diapers under his arm, Charlie put his hands up at Becky.

"You just stay in there, now. We've got this all under control."

Emily was standing at the end of the hallway, with her jacket under her arm.

"That's right, Mom. Charlie's taking us to the park. So you can stay in there. We don't want your cooties!"

Becky smiled sweetly despite the green tinge to her complexion.

"Well have fun, sweetie. Be careful. And keep your mask on, okay?"

"Okay. I will."

The little girl turned to look at Charlie.

"Hurry up and get Adam, the sun is warm right now!"

Charlie entered the nursery to find Ethan shaking his head and trying to get the baby to lie on his back. Adam had decided that flipping over to his stomach and trying to crawl off the changing table was the most important task in the world and he was pursuing his goal with everything he had. Ethan had gotten the dirty diaper out from under the baby and had managed to get his bottom cleaned up. But as soon as he let go of the child's ankles to wrap up the dirty diaper, the baby had flipped himself over to his tummy and was trying to crawl right off the end of the table. Ethan picked him up and turned him over but that lasted all of about a second and a half before Adam flipped himself back onto his stomach. Now Adam was getting angry. He kicked out at his father trying to get his ankles released, pulling himself forward across the table with his little arms as he tried to get up on his hands and knees again. He wanted to crawl and the prolonged business of diaper changing was over in Adam's eyes.

Charlie could see that Ethan was becoming frustrated and quickly handed the man a clean diaper from the bag that he had pulled open as he walked in. Once again, Ethan tried to flip the baby onto his back so that he could get the clean diaper on him. He lifted the child's legs and got the back of it under his bottom but as soon as he allowed Adam's legs to come down the baby flipped himself over again.

"Oh man! Come on, Adam! Give me a break here!"

Charlie walked over to the head of the changing table as Ethan got Adam onto his back yet again. When he leaned over the baby, Adam squealed at the sight of him and raised his little hands in the air reaching for the young man's hair. Charlie made no effort to pull his hair away and the baby grabbed a handful of the dark curls and yanked.

"Hey, Little Buddy, that is actually attached you know."

Ethan smiled and shook his head at his friend. He had heard Becky complain numerous times about Adam's love of hair. He had very short hair himself so this was never really an issue for him. Charlie's sacrifice of a few strands allowed enough of a distraction to the active baby so that Ethan was able to get the clean diaper on him as well as a pair of pants and socks. Once he was finished he looked up at Charlie smiling, yet looking harried at the same time.

"Thank you, your timing was impeccable."

Charlie reached over and scooped the baby up into his arms, much to Adam's delight.

"No sweat. I've had the same trouble with him ever since he started crawling. He's too quick and strong. In fact, I'm beginning to think that this little procedure has become a two man job."

"I'm inclined to agree."  
As Ethan turned to walk out of the nursery, he turned back to Charlie with a contemplative expression clouding his features.

"You know what? I think you've changed my son's diaper more in the past month than I have."

Suddenly feeling as if he had just been caught using a calculator, Charlie lifted his eyes to his friend as his insecurities about overstepping boundaries returned.

"I'm…..I'm sorry, Ethan. I didn't realize that……"

"No…no, man. I didn't mean it like that."  
With an easy smile, Ethan stepped back across the room and took Adam from Charlie's arms.

"I really do appreciate all your help, Charlie. But for someone who swore they weren't going to put their burdens onto someone else, I've sure been calling on you a lot. If you…."

"Hey."  
Charlie knew where Ethan was going and he cut him off mid sentence.

"If I didn't want to take Adam and Emily to the park, I would have told you."  
With a cunning grin, he continued.  
"Well, I would have made up some excuse anyway. I enjoy the time I spend with the kids, and I know my father is delighted to know that I can actually spend more than a few minutes with a child and still be smiling about it. It renews his hopes for grandchildren someday."

Turning to the changing table, Charlie grabbed an empty diaper bag that was hanging on a nearby hook and began to pack the bag for the trip to the park. When he looked up at his friend, Charlie's smile had faded.

"Ethan, I …… I want to tell you something."

He paused and waited for Ethan's nod of approval before he continued.  
"When you called me today I was so… well happy isn't the right word, maybe relieved that you did. I know that you have resisted asking me for help, and I think I understand why, but… well it makes me think about a time when I couldn't have helped you if you had begged me to. When my mom got sick I discovered some things about myself that I struggled with for a long time."

Charlie stopped talking again; turning his eyes to the bag he was packing. He had told Ethan that his mother had died of cancer, but he had never elaborated on his own actions during her final months. Swallowing hard, he continued, determined to share what was on his mind.

"A rift had formed between my brother and me and when she got sick, especially near the end we should have been there for each other…. Me and Don. But I… I totally lost it, Ethan. I ended up in the garage working on one of the millennium problems. I stopped eating and sleeping. I stopped living. I didn't do anything but work on P vs. NP for three months."

The emotion in the younger man's voice was apparent, and Ethan turned to scrutinize his friend's face.

"I abandoned her, Ethan. I deserted my father and my brother…..but most of all I deserted my own mother. I should have been there for them, but I just… I couldn't face it."

Confusion was apparent on Ethan's face as he leaned over, turning Adam loose on the nursery floor.

"Charlie, you're not obligated to be my friend just because.…….…….."

Cutting off Ethan's objection, Charlie shook his head vigorously.  
"No. No. That's not what I'm trying to say at all. I'm not doing this to fulfill an obligation or alleviate some buried guilt. If anything it's exactly the opposite. I have forgiven myself and have moved on, but I remember the stress, the regret, the feelings of anger and helplessness."

As Charlie continued speaking, Adam began to crawl furiously in his direction.

"I'm not that same man I was then. I don't run away from things anymore and I can be there for you. I _want_ to be there and when you called me I felt like you finally trusted me."

Ethan's face took on a shadow of emotion that Charlie couldn't quite read. It could have been guilt or regret but there seemed to be a hint of frustration or maybe even anger too.

"Charlie, I _do_ trust you, how could you think that I don't? You have helped me more than anyone I have ever known and I feel…"  
Ethan heaved a sigh and sank down in the rocking chair next to the crib. He suddenly looked more tired and tense than he had when Charlie first walked into the nursery.

"Look, I have always had to make it on my own. I put myself through school and got my masters degree without the help that most undergrads have from family. I was a doctoral candidate and a single dissertation way from getting my Ph.D. when I had to call it quits. I could have done it with a little assistance. But I am not comfortable asking for help. It just isn't my way. It doesn't mean that I don't trust you, Charlie. I have always trusted you; I trusted you and your brother two years ago with my daughter's life. I just don't want to lay all of _my_ problems on _your_ shoulders."

Charlie set the diaper bag down on the floor and Adam immediately crawled over to it to investigate. Charlie approached his friend and squatted down so that they were facing each other.

"Please, let me do this. Let me help you."

"Daddy? Is it still okay for Charlie to take us to the park?"

Both men turned to see Emily standing in the doorway holding Adam's jacket now as well as her own. Charlie turned his eyes to Ethan and nodded timorously. With a smile and a decisive nod in return, Ethan turned to Emily.

"Absolutely, honey. It's still okay." Ethan turned again to Charlie as both men stood. "It's always been okay and it always will be."

Adam had made his way across the floor and climbed up onto Charlie's shoe. Smiling, Ethan took Adam's jacket from his daughter who had regained her enthusiasm and bounced into the room. Adam was tugging on Charlie's pant leg and looking up at him with bright eyes and a happy smile.

"It won't be long and he'll be pulling up on everything." Ethan scooped the baby up and handed him to Charlie to hold while he put his coat and sneakers on.

"He'll have these shoes off probably before you even get there but we can at least start out with them."

After packing the stroller and diaper bag into the trunk, Charlie stood and watched as Ethan buckled his kids into their safety seats. A burden seemed to have been lifted from the older man's shoulders and Charlie was glad he had followed his heart and shared his feelings with his friend. The air seemed clearer now. Not just between the two of them, but between Ethan and his children as well. As he fastened the five point harness on the baby's car seat, Ethan appeared more at ease than Charlie had seen him in almost two months.

The ride to the park didn't take very long and listening to Emily talk to her baby brother could almost make Charlie forget that she was anything other than a normal, healthy little girl. It was only when he glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the scarf covering her now bald head that he was reminded of the terrible disease that she was at war with. The white respirator mask obscured her beautiful face but it protected her from the germs that could attack her almost depleted immune system and Charlie reminded himself to make sure that Emily kept it on her face at all times.

At the sight of the playground, Emily was almost unable to contain her excitement. She squealed with glee when Charlie opened the door to let her out of the backseat and she immediately took off across the park toward the swing set. Standing next to the car for a moment, Charlie watched as Emily zipped her jacket all the way up, just as her father had instructed and then arranged herself neatly in the swing. She began to push herself with her feet to gain momentum and as she reached an adequate velocity, the little girl tilted her head up and closed her eyes, bathing herself in the bright sunshine.

Charlie tore his eyes from Emily's ecstatic expression to pull the stroller and diaper bag out of the trunk. He got Adam out of his car seat and strapped into the stroller, then he made his way across the playground. Emily was swinging her legs beneath her and she was soaring higher and higher into the air. In fact, she was swinging far higher than Charlie thought she should and he wanted to tell her to slow down to take a rest.

He had actually opened his mouth to call out to her when he remembered something his father had told him before he left for the Burdick's house. Charlie had commented that he was concerned about Emily being outside and taxing her stressed immune system more than she should. Alan sat him down at the table in the dining room and told him about a conversation that he had with Margaret before she died.

"_Charlie, if there was one regret that your mother had near the end, it was that she spent so much of the time she had left lying in bed when she still had the strength to get up and go do something. And that was half my fault. I wanted her to rest….and to hang on to what strength she had and so did she. But, Charlie….When someone is dying, it's a far kinder thing to help them live than to help them die. If Emily has the ability to enjoy herself; let her. She may not get that chance again. Robbing her of that joy, just to gain her a short extension of time near the end…..when there is nothing left? That would be unfair to her. She is a child; let her be a child for a little while longer. You know all too well how quickly the chemotherapy can, and eventually will, take every ounce of energy she has. Trying to prolong her life will ultimately take all of that away from her, and what's more; she knows it too."_

His father's words had lingered in the air around them and Charlie had forced himself to get up and walk away. These disheartening thoughts as to the eventual results of Emily's battle with Leukemia had not been spoken out loud between them and Charlie didn't realize how much effort he had made to not think about it. He had gotten in his car and left the house without another word to his father.

Feeling guilty for his reaction to his father's words of wisdom, Charlie pulled his cell phone from his pocket and almost dialed his father's cell phone. But Adam had grown tired of the stroller and began struggling to get out of his confined space. Un-strapping the harness, Charlie lifted Adam over his shoulder. But he quickly realized that what the baby was really after was freedom when Adam began to kick his legs in an attempt to get down out of Charlie's arms. Setting him down on the grass next to one of the benches set up for parents, Charlie watched as Adam spent several minutes just sitting in the grass. Then, marveling at this wonderful new substance that he found all around him, Adam began to pull handfuls of it out of the ground and tossing them up in the air over his head.

Laughing as he watched the baby gleefully pull more grass up, Charlie leaned over and brushed several of the green blades from off his tiny shoulders.

"Well at least it's not my hair. And don't get any ideas!"

Adam had grown tired of the grass and had begun to crawl in circles around the mathematician's legs when Emily came and sat down on the bench next to him. She looked exceptionally pale and she was breathing a little hard.

"Hey kiddo, you okay?"

Despite her obvious exhaustion, she began to swing her legs back and forth under the bench and looked happily up at Charlie.  
"I'm fantastic! This is a good kind of tired. It's the kind of tired every kid wants to be."

Thinking again of his father's words, Charlie smiled and shook his head almost to himself.  
"Well then, I am glad for you."

Emily's mood was so upbeat that he had difficulty trying to imagine that she wouldn't be able to beat this thing. But he couldn't stop himself from running the statistics in his head and that made his smile falter a little.

Emily noticed this change and looked up at him.  
"Don't look like that, Charlie."

"Don't look like what?"

Emily looked at him closely for a moment. The she sighed deeply and answered.  
"Sometimes…..like just now, when you look at me I see sad in your eyes."

She shook her head at him despondently.  
"Don't be sad when you see me. Mom and Dad look at me sad sometimes too."

Emily's eyebrows drew together thoughtfully as she continued.  
"Mom cries a lot. And I wish she would be happy, because now is our happy time. The sad time isn't here yet and I don't want to rush it."

Charlie tried to replace the smile on his face but his attempt didn't reach his eyes as he took in her pale complexion and respirator mask.  
"You are a very wise little girl."

"I have to be."

A frown of confusion creased his brow and Charlie shook his head at her.  
"Why do you have to be wise?"

Her answer took him completely by surprise. It was almost as if she had been reading his thoughts.

"Because if I am not wise now, then I might not get the chance. They don't think I do, but I know what thirty percent means. It means that my happy time isn't long enough, so I want to put as many good memories in my head as I can. I'll need them to keep me company when I go to see God. Heaven is way up there and I figure it'll be a long trip, so I'll need lots of happy memories. If you feel sad, then I start to feel sad. And I don't have time for that, so if you help me make some happy memories I'll send an angel to you when I meet God. That way you can have happy memories even when you feel sad. Okay, Charlie?"

In that moment, when he looked at this little girl, Charlie saw his mother. He tried to stop them, but tears welled up in his eyes at her words and his voice cracked as he answered her.  
"I've just seen that angel in you."

Looking up at him earnestly, Emily put her small, pale hand in his.  
"Maybe that's why you and Dad met and became friends. Maybe your mom knew that I would be your angel."

"I think she did, Emily. I think she did."


	5. Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

**Chapter Five: Goodbye Yellow Brick Road**

Alan stood and walked to the refrigerator.

"I forgot the jam."

Despite his protestations that he had only wanted coffee Don piled his plate high with scrambled eggs, bacon and several of his father's buttermilk biscuits. Reaching across the small kitchen table to grab the butter dish, Don turned his head to watch his father.

"I can't believe Charlie just got up and walked away from you."

"He was upset, Donnie. And he had a right to be."

Retrieving two jars of preserves, Alan paused at the counter to get another knife from the silverware drawer.

"Charlie wasn't there with your mother at the end and up until now I've never felt... right about talking with him about it. I said to you earlier that you don't give your brother enough credit but you are not the only one… I underestimated him too. Those are things I should have shared with him years ago. But I didn't think he'd understand, or that he would even hear me out. I automatically assumed he would shy away from such knowledge or even retreat again. I was wrong, Donnie, we both were."

Taking his seat across from Don, Alan grabbed the pepper mill from the center of the table and began to douse his eggs.

"Your brother wasn't allowing himself to see the possibility that Emily might not survive this thing. He needed to see that on his own."

After spreading jam all over his biscuits, Don attacked his food with keen enthusiasm despite the somber subject matter. Taking a particularly large mouthful of eggs, Don grinned across the table at his father.

"Okay, I was hungry. Man, I missed real food."

Alan replied by smiling broadly and pushing the plate of bacon in Don's direction. Chewing in silent contemplation, Don couldn't help but consider everything he had missed and again he felt that pesky tendril of guilt lace around his heart as a frown creased his brow. Charlie never should have been forced to endure this alone. He had chosen solitude when their mother was dying, but this time Don was the one who had deserted him. And for what? Revenge? Justice?

Again Alan seemed to read his son's mind and he cut him off mid thought.

"You had no way of knowing this would happen, Donnie. You cannot blame yourself for the trauma that… ...for what your brother went through when…"

Unable or unwilling to complete the sentence, Alan sighed and picked up his fork again.

"Charlie took this on with his eyes shut as to how much it was really going to affect him."

Don leaned forward in his chair and pushed his eggs around on his plate for a moment. Then he lifted his head and fixed his eyes on his father.

"Dad, do you remember when Charlie found that little girl's picture from that meth lab computer?"

Alan nodded in affirmation as Don continued.

"He took so much responsibility for that little girl. That picture… just that picture…it affected him so much. He knew she was being mistreated… being abused, but he was determined to find her… determined to save her and he didn't even know her."

"No, Donnie, he didn't know her but she reminded him of someone from his childhood. Someone he failed to help."

Don nodded and reached for another biscuit.

"Yeah. You told me about that then."

"And what happened?"

Shaking his head, not quite understanding where Alan was going with this, Don answered.

"Thanks to Charlie, we found the little girl. Megan and Colby were able to arrest her father and Charlie… I don't know. I'm still not sure how he resolved his feelings about all of that in the end, but I think maybe he felt like he'd done something he hadn't been able to do when he was a kid."

"Exactly, Donnie. That was your brother's way of facing yet another old demon. Charlie has come a lot further than either of us has given him credit for."

Stopping to grab a paper napkin, Alan wiped his mouth.

"This was by no means an easy transition for him. Discovering that Emily had accepted her own death and he hadn't even considered it yet...? Well, that hit him much harder than he thought it would. He called me after he took the kids home from the park that day. He was crying, Donnie… really crying. He wouldn't admit it; but I could hear it in his voice."

The knowledge that his brother had undergone so much emotional torment on behalf of this child and her family made Don's next question hard to ask.

"So I take it she didn't make it, Emily I mean?"

The look of pure anguish that clouded his father's features answered his inquiry for him. Obviously, Charlie wasn't the only one who had become closely attached to Emily Burdick.

Still, Don was completely unprepared for what his father was about to tell him as he poured himself some more coffee and waited patiently for him to continue this tale.

……………………………… 

**1 Month Ago**

……………………………… 

The morning sun never really appeared in the overcast sky which was filled with dark clouds that spoke of rain, but refused to relinquish their hold on it. The oppressive atmosphere gave the day a feeling of anticipated tension that was palpable. Larry had told Charlie on numerous occasions that the weather had a very direct effect on people's mental state, going far beyond mood or disposition. This was a belief that Charlie put on the same level as psychic phenomena, but still he had to admit to a certain melancholy that pervaded his soul on this dreary day. He felt as dark as the sky above him and smiled inwardly at the metaphorical parallels that Larry would be making if he were here.

The discussion that he had with Emily the other day in the park, as well as the talk he had with his father had been both depressing and awe-inspiring. Charlie found himself going over the calculations as to Emily's survival ratio and he felt an oppressive weight settle onto his shoulders. A second bout with Leukemia and the end of a remission decreased her chances of survival by a huge margin, yet her attitude about her condition was so uplifting that he found himself with an odd juxtaposition of emotion.

This seven year old child had shown him more courage and grace in facing her own death than he would have ever been able to muster had their positions been reversed. Charlie found himself thinking of his mother again and how poorly he had coped with her illness. That was so long ago now that it felt like a lifetime had passed. He was a completely different person than he had been four and a half years ago and Charlie was proud of the strides he had made in the interim. Wondering if he could have faced her illness as the person he had become, Charlie acknowledged that he would soon be facing the prospect of another devastating loss. And he wondered, not for the first time since their conversation in the park, how he would handle Emily's death.

The fear that his mother would have been disappointed with him for hiding from the pain of her passing no longer haunted him. Charlie knew now with absolute certainty that she had understood. His father had told him that often enough, but what really convinced him in his heart was Emily. Ethan was having similar problems coping with Emily's illness and Charlie could see him putting a distance between himself and his daughter. It was nothing close to the extent to which Charlie had retreated, as the dynamic was much different in this case. Emily being Ethan's young daughter was far different than Charlie being his mother's grown son.

Charlie was certain that the parental instinct was what made the difference. It fit perfectly into his recent work on cognitive emergence. He was finding that the bounds of time, space and consciousness are often bridged and even broken by simple parental instinct. He had studied case files where a parent had suffered traumatic injury that in over ninety percent of similar cases had resulted in fatality. These survivors had later reported that it was the fact that their children needed them that kept them hanging to life by the barest of threads.

Emily could see her father's struggle and not only had she accepted it, but she understood it to a degree that was astounding and she had openly expressed her desire to help him cope with her illness rather than demanding comfort from him.

In many ways, Emily actually reminded Charlie of his mother. He once again considered the notion that Emily was a kind of angel sent by his mother, who had come into his life; an ageless spirit embodied in this small child to show him the way.

When Alan came down for breakfast, Charlie was absentmindedly packing up his school satchel lost in thought. The elder Eppes noticed how Charlie was moving in an almost trance like fashion and poured him a cup of coffee.

"You didn't sleep well, Charlie?"

"Hmm? Uh, no. I guess not. Is it that obvious?"

Handing the cup to Charlie, he looked at his son with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, it really is. What's on your agenda for today?"

"I have a lecture at eight and office hours from ten to one, and then I'm home for the rest of the day. I might try to do some more work on my Cognitive Emergence Theory…"

Charlie looked out the window at the impending gloom and he continued in a slightly nervous tone.

"…or I might just take a nap. It's a napping sort of day."

Alan looked out the window and nodded.

"That sounds like the best idea yet. The math of the brain can wait. There is a hell of a storm coming in. As a matter of fact, Stan and I have canceled our survey trip today because of it."

Charlie turned away from the window and sat at the table staring at his untouched breakfast plate. It seemed odd to him that he that he didn't feel like eating, but a nameless unease had been slowly growing in his stomach since he got up this morning and it had completely robbed him of his customary appetite. Pushing his plate away, Charlie rose to his feet.

"I'm going to get a head start. I don't trust this weather and I want to get to school before it rains."

"Drive carefully, Charlie."

This comment was accompanied by a pointed stare and Charlie had to smile.

"You got it, Pops!"

As he walked past his father, Alan tried to swat him with the newspaper. Quickly ducking out of reach and grabbing his satchel, Charlie flashed his father a quick smile and headed out the door.

The feeling of disquiet that Charlie had awoken with was ever present throughout the course of his day. He had been able to put it out of his mind during the lecture, but it came back with a vengeance when he walked from the lecture hall across the quad to his office. The wind had picked up measurably and he found himself working hard against the air currents just to make headway. While he was seeing students in preparation for finals he had once again been able to quiet the nervous tension, but only until he had to make his way out to the staff parking lot. Then the feeling was back again at full force.

His father may have been teasing him this morning about driving carefully but on the trip home, Charlie had to consciously take the comment to heart. He was more than ready to admit that he did not have a lot of driving experience and he was uncomfortable navigating his vehicle in the strong winds. As the car was buffeted by powerful gusts of air, Charlie increased his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. By the time he got back to the house, he was physically as well as emotionally drained and wanted nothing more than to take a nap.

Just as the young professor was about to crash on the couch his cell phone rang shrilly. A flash of irrational hope that it was Don rose up so quickly that it almost took his breath away.

'_Be reasonable, Charlie. It couldn't be Don. He's deep undercover and we won't see him for at least another month.' _

That rush of hope was instantly replaced with longing; but that was interrupted by the continued ringing of the phone. When Charlie saw on the caller ID that it was Ethan he answered quickly.

"Hello, Ethan? Is everything all right?...

Oh, yeah um, sure I can come over. Just give me a few minutes to get things put away and I'll leave….

No, that's okay. I understand completely. When is the deadline for the project? …

Yeah that should be enough time; look maybe we can get it a little further along. I'll be there shortly."

Looking regretfully at the couch, Charlie picked up his satchel and headed through the kitchen to tell his dad that he had to go out again.

"It's getting bad out there, Charlie. I thought you were in for the rest of the day."

"Ethan needs to see me. He's stuck on a project and it's time sensitive."

Alan looked out the window at the black clouds that were darkening the skies. The clouds had yet to yield any rain, but the wind was blowing so fiercely that it almost looked like there was a hurricane raging outside their window.

"Charlie you need to drive very carefully. I've been watching the weather channel on and off today and this storm system is pretty impressive. Twisters, however rare, are not completely unheard of in Southern California."

Charlie smiled encouragingly at his father and patted his shoulder.

"I promise if my car gets picked up and dropped in Oz, the first thing I'll do is click my heels together and ask to go home."

Alan didn't smile at the joke and made no effort to quell his concerns about Charlie heading out in this weather.

"Just call me when you get there, Charlie."

"Relax, Dad. I'm actually not that bad of a driver."

Despite his assurances to his father, Charlie felt a lot less confident than he pretended to be about driving in the storm. Beneath the darkened sky it looked like dusk had already fallen even though it was just before two o'clock in the afternoon. By the time he arrived at Ethan's house he was thoroughly rattled, but didn't forget to call his father before getting out of the car.

"I won't be too long, Dad. I should be home by dinner time at the latest."

Charlie was greeted at the door by a harried looking Ethan holding a crying baby. Becky was in the process of putting Emily down for a nap and between the wind howling outside and the baby's cries there seemed to be a din of barely contained chaos that hung in the air.

Ethan looked ready to collapse and before Charlie even realized what he was doing he took Adam from his arms. Grabbing a lock of Charlie's hair, Adam quickly settled down. Ethan crumpled on the couch and stared up at Charlie with wonder and relief.

"How did you do that? He has been crying for…"

Ethan checked his watch

"…too long. No matter what I did he wouldn't settle down."

Charlie walked over and sat down next to his friend.

"I'm not as frazzled as you are at the moment, that's all. I've done some research over the last few weeks and it's a proven fact that when mom and dad are stressed the baby knows it and reacts."

Ethan got a pained look in his eyes. It was clear that his family situation was bringing him close to a breaking point. Even when Emily had been kidnapped two years ago he hadn't seemed as hopeless and tired as he did in that moment. Charlie was forcibly reminded of how his father and brother looked near the end of his mother's life. But instead of the urge to run and hide from the growing sorrow he could see in his friend's face, Charlie was instead struck by the desire to help Ethan through this experience. And that impulse was far stronger than the allure of losing himself in the numbers.

Adam had fallen asleep in Charlie's arms when Becky came out to the living room. She looked as tired as Ethan did and when she bent down to take the baby from Charlie he could see that she had been crying. The lingering feeling of unease that had been with him all day returned like a sucker punch to the stomach and he felt a twinge of fear for Emily.

Ethan led Charlie into the den where his white boards were covered in complex mathematical equations. Ethan leaned against the wall and heaved a deep sigh.

"It's not like I'm not familiar with reverse engineering methods. But at some point last night things stopped making sense and I still can't make heads or tails of this. I guess if you look at something for too long, after a while it all starts to blur together."

Giving his friend an encouraging smile, Charlie furrowed his brow and studied the sequence of numbers and letters that represented a monumental breakthrough in computer imaging technology that would get Ethan's name in the trade journals and put the company he was freelancing for into a new tax bracket.

"You're using a pointer switching strategy, then?"

"Yeah. But……."

Caught up in what the numbers were saying to him, Charlie cut Ethan off, continuing with his observations.

"Ah…but this isn't the original Schiff-Waine algorithm."

Shaking his head, Ethan walked up next to the board and pointed out a series of variables.

"No, I'm using a fixed length stack."

Scrutinizing the numbers, Charlie could almost see the numerals fly through the air and place themselves in the equation. He turned to his friend, his face displaying open amazement.

"And you're substituting the pointer switching strategy when the stack runs out!"

"Right."

"Can I see your original expressions for this?"

Ethan shook his head and a slight smile tweaked the sides of his mouth.

"It's not a new algorithm."

"It's a hybrid?"

"A transformational development of the Shciff-Waine, yes."

Charlie ran his hand through his hair as he narrowed his eyes at Ethan.

"So you're applying the proven semantics to the equation, preserving transformation rules and using theoretical specifications of attainability?"

"Yeah. So what did I do wrong?"

A broad smile covered Charlie's face and he shook his head.

"Nothing."

Looking confused, Ethan turned to the grid that covered one of the boards.

"Then why are my iterative and recursive graphs all over the place?"

"Because they're correct. Ethan, this is perfect. Brilliant! If we can calculate the theoretical specifications using current proofs, we can have this finished in forty eight hours."

Picking up a red dry erase marker, Charlie pulled the cap off and began to go over the equation on the board adding new numbers to Ethan's original calculations. After an hour and a half, to the casual observer, the equations on the board looked even more convoluted than they had when the mathematicians had first entered the room. But to Charlie, the work seemed to be gelling together nicely.

As Charlie began on the next set of variables, Ethan suddenly put down the dry erase marker he had been holding; the fatigue in his eyes and stature painfully obvious. Charlie, however, didn't see it at first as he found himself completely caught up in the numbers.

"Nothing makes sense anymore."

"Sure it does. See? If you move your fixed length…….."

For Charlie it was so easy to block out the world when he was focused on the numbers and it took him a few seconds to realize that Ethan was no longer talking about the project and the complex algorithmic sequence on the board. Stopping himself mid-sentence and capping the marker, Charlie stopped what he was doing and turned to face his friend.

"Charlie, I just feel like everything is falling apart."

Charlie looked from Ethan to the white board. Charlie knew that his friend was in a bad place right now. His emotions were unstable and he had reached the point where he no longer felt like he could keep on keeping on. But Charlie felt completely inept when it came to giving advice in this instance. He wasn't about to tell his friend that what he really needed to do was barricade himself in the den with an unsolvable equation and hope that Becky could be strong enough for both of them; the way Don had been for him.

Casting that thought aside, Charlie was just formulating what he hoped would be a comforting response when Becky entered the den. She wore an expression of deep seated fear that got the attention of both men immediately.

"Becky? What is it?"

"It's Emmy. Her temperature is one hundred and one. Ethan, we have to take her to the hospital."

Charlie watched as Becky's panic was quickly spread to her husband. The wind howled outside the window and the storm seemed to intensify in perfect time with the fear of the two desperate parents. Ethan turned to Becky, searching her face for the courage that he needed.

"What about Adam?"

"Go, I'll stay here with him."

In their distress, the Burdicks seemed to have momentarily forgotten Charlie was there and they both turned to face him.

Meeting his friend's eyes, Charlie nodded.

"He'll be fine here with me. Go."

After a moments hesitation Ethan was suddenly galvanized into action.

"Thank you, Charlie……Becky put together a bag for Emmy and grab her meds; I'll get her wrapped up in a blanket."

Knowing full well that a simple fever was never a simple fever for a leukemia patient, they both moved quickly through the house. Ethan went straight to his daughter's room, while Becky went to the kitchen to grab Emily's medications and respirator mask. When Ethan brought the child, wrapped tightly in a large fleece blanket, out into the living room Charlie's heart skipped a beat. The little girl who, despite her illness, had seemed so full of life only days ago was now listless and white except for her cheeks, which were flushed with fever.

Becky unceremoniously shoved the mask into Charlie's hands as she made her way back through the hallway to grab a change of clothes for her daughter. Charlie was shocked at how hot the small girl was as he fitted the mask on her face while her father held her. She opened glazed eyes and looked up at him.

From the day Charlie had met Emily Burdick, he had never seen her openly display fear. Even Don had commented on how courageous and brave the child had seemed when he and Terry had rescued her from Paul Ballard. After everything she had been through, the fear that was now reflected in her light blue eyes broke Charlie's heart.

"It'll be okay, Honey. Your Mommy and Daddy are going to take care of you."

Ethan was barely able to contain the dread that was running through him and his arms were shaking slightly. Charlie put his hand on his friend's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Taking a deep breath, Ethan cradled his daughter's body against his chest. Charlie opened the front door and they headed out into the storm.

Fat raindrops had begun to fall steadily, the powerful wind picking up the drops and slapping them into the adult's faces with a stinging force. Charlie ran around to the passenger side of the car and opened the back door for Ethan so that he could strap Emily into her booster seat.

Becky clamored into the front passenger seat and swiveled her body around to check on Emily as Ethan finished buckling her in. She rested a hand on her child's leg and gave it a gentle pat as Ethan stood up and backed away so Charlie could close the door. Before he turned to go around to the driver's side, Ethan stopped and put a shaking hand on Charlie's shoulder. His eyes were full of apprehension but they also contained an expression of fierce gratitude.

"Charlie, how can I ever thank you?"

"Friends don't need thank-you's. Go take care of Emily, Ethan. I'll be here when you get back."

Both men ran around the car and Charlie made a beeline for the front porch to get out of the weather. The trees on the street were swaying dangerously in the gale force winds and a large branch from the sycamore tree across the street came crashing down in the yard directly across from the house. Any thoughts of standing on the porch to watch his friends drive away were quickly dismissed and Charlie pulled open the door. The fierce winds nearly yanked the handle out of his grasp and he had to struggle against the storm to pull it shut.

Charlie stood in the living room soaking wet from the rain. That and the rush of adrenaline from his flight back into the house, as well as an innate distress for Emily, left him cold and shaking. Until he had gone outside, he really hadn't realized just how violent this storm had become. He had been so wrapped up in Ethan's project he hadn't heard the wind pick up and now he could hear it whistling around the house.

Even if Ethan and Becky made it back to the house tonight, Charlie realized there was no way he would be able to drive home is this gale. Deciding it would be best to count on spending the night; Charlie stepped over to the coffee table and picked up the phone to call his father.

Before he had a chance to dial, a deafening crack resounded throughout the living room. Charlie jumped at the sudden explosive reverberation, dropping the phone receiver.

Unlike a simple lightning strike, it was not followed by silence. Instead a popping and splintering sound resonated…not just through the air but through the earth as well. It felt as if the very core of the planet was splitting open. Charlie moved toward the front door just as a thunderous crashing shook the house and all the lights went out.

Charlie heard and felt a huge tree smash through the roof and ceiling of the living room as plaster and wood crashed to the floor. Charlie was only peripherally aware of the debris that hit him in the face and arms. He couldn't see the trunk coming at him as the tree toppled into the living room but Charlie could feel his arms and face stinging as the branches slapped at him. When a larger limb hit him across the shoulders Charlie tumbled backward, falling over the coffee table. Hitting his head on the wooden arm of the couch, Charlie fell onto the floor with his senses reeling.

He didn't think he had lost consciousness or if he had it had only been for a brief moment. Lying on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, debris and drops of water were assaulting his face as the remains of the front of the house settled around him.

As he tried to pull himself up into a sitting position, Charlie realized that one the larger limbs of the massive tree was lying over him, suspended over the couch and the coffee table. Flipping over onto his stomach, Charlie wriggled beneath the limbs until he found a place where he could push himself up to his hands and knees. Shaking off the wave of dizziness that threatened to consume him, Charlie suddenly remembered he was not alone in the house.

"Adam."

Finding his footing he stood shakily and stared at the huge maple tree that had stood at the foot of Ethan's driveway. The central trunk of the massive tree was lying along what remained of the far wall of the living room beside the kitchen.

It had come right through the roof, destroying half of the living room, the kitchen and the den. The doorway that led down the hallway to the bedrooms was almost completely filled by the limbs and branches of the tree. Fearing for Adam, Charlie dropped to his hands and knees again, searching for a hole he could crawl through. Finding a small gap between the floor and the branches, Charlie was able to squeeze his body under the tree, sliding on his stomach through the passage. The nursery was at the far end of the hallway, away from the disaster, and Charlie was able to get back to his feet well before he reached the end of the corridor.

Charlie opened the door to the nursery, frightened by the lack of sound from inside the room. The racket of the tree falling through the roof would have woken anyone from a dead sleep. He habitually tried the light switch on the wall but wasn't surprised when nothing happened. Charlie strained his ears and listened intently. Behind the noise of the storm outside the windows and the sound of the wind whipping down the hallway from the open living room, he could hear the sounds of deep even breathing. The crib was up against the back wall of the room and as Charlie crept across the floor, he was astounded to realize that Adam had slept through the destruction of half the house. His eyes adjusted to the dim light coming in through the window and Charlie could just make out the silhouette of the baby sleeping on his belly in the middle of the crib.

"Oh, thank God."

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Charlie tried to imagine what Ethan and Becky were going to think when they pulled up into the driveway and saw their house. But it had all happened so fast, Ethan hadn't even pulled out of the driveway yet when………..Charlie never even finished that thought as a cold hand of terror gripped him. The uneasy feeling that he had been wrestling with all day came roaring back with such vicious force that Charlie staggered into the changing table as he breathed out a strangled exclamation.

"Ethan!"

Charlie tore out of the nursery heading for the front door. Running headlong down the hallway in the dark, he forgot that the huge tree lay in his path. When he tripped over a low lying branch, he fell hard into the side of the trunk, nearly impaling himself on a broken branch. The sharp end of the limb tore his shirt and ripped a jagged gash along his ribs as he fell, but Charlie barely noticed as he rolled off the tree and squeezed beneath the branches.

The front door of the house had been ripped off of its upper hinge, but not the lower one and it lay lopsided on the living room floor. As Charlie tried to step over the destroyed door, the bottom hinge gave way and the door crashed down nearly knocking Charlie off his feet again. The wind and rain were howling as fiercely as before and Charlie had to hold his hands and arms up to shield his face from the debris that the wind was still whipping around as he made his way out to the front of the house, climbing over the broken railing and roof of the porch.

As Charlie turned to the driveway he felt his heart drop to his toes. Ethan had never made it out of the drive. The huge tree had split about three feet from its base and landed right on top of the car before falling through the roof of the house. The passenger side of the car was nearly flattened and the realization of what was inside ripped the breath from his lungs as he looked on horrified.

Charlie stood there for a several minutes frozen in shock at the sight before him. The wind tore at his clothes and the rain whipped at his face, but he couldn't feel it as he struggled to draw a breath. He had no clear recollection of consciously deciding to approach the car, but somehow found himself next to the automobile looking in.

The roof of the vehicle had been crushed by the massive tree trunk. The majority of the weight had been centered on the passenger side and Charlie didn't have to see Becky's face to tell that she was dead. The crimson stain that occupied that section of the car seared the macabre image into his memory. Leaning to look into the backseat, he could see the lifeless eyes of Emily Burdick staring back at him. Praying to God that the child had died on impact, Charlie had to tear his gaze away. He staggered toward the front of the car. A large branch had fallen directly across the drivers section of the car, pinning Ethan's head to the steering wheel. The frame around the window had been smashed and broken chunks of glass were everywhere. Charlie's vision seemed to be closing into a hazy tunnel, but when Ethan opened his eyes, Charlie was slammed back to reality with a frightening jolt.

"Ethan? Can you hear me?"

"Beck… Em…"

Charlie couldn't stop the tears that formed and dropped from his eyes. Ethan knew that his wife and daughter were dead by the look on Charlie's face. As the realization hit him, Ethan's eyes clouded over and Charlie started screaming at him.

"No! Ethan you have to stay with me."

Pulling out his cell phone and dialing 911, Charlie continued to talk to his dying friend.

"Ethan, please. You have to focus. Listen to my voice. … Help, my friend is trapped in his car. A tree fell on it. We are at 425 Sycamore Street. Please hurry. … Ethan, open your eyes. Look at me!"

Ethan opened his eyes again and focused on Charlie's face as tears dropped to the steering wheel but he kept staring at Charlie, who maintained a stream of encouraging words trying to keep the man focused on him. The sounds of sirens soon pierced the air and could be heard over the roaring wind. Ethan once again began to fade and Charlie pulled him back again.

"Ethan, I need you to stay with me."

"Charlie… They're gone… I've lost them…"

Charlie didn't see or hear the fireman come up to the side of the car where he stood trying to keep Ethan awake and alert.

"No, Ethan. They are not all gone. You have to fight. Adam needs you. He'll be all alone if you don't fight. Now stay with me, damn it!"

Ethan's eyes cleared a little and when he looked up at Charlie he saw the fireman standing right behind him shouting out orders. Charlie followed his friend's gaze and seemed to see the rescue personnel for the first time.

"Please, you have to help him."

The fireman who had been standing just behind them squatted down and looked more closely at Ethan trying to assess the situation.

"Hang in there, Buddy. We are going to get this tree off of you all right?"

But instead of silent agreement, Ethan raised his voice to be heard over the sounds of the equipment the other firemen were moving in.

"No… listen to me. Please… both must… hear me."

Charlie exchanged glances with the fireman, and then they both turned their eyes to Ethan.

"Charlie… you have to… take Adam. Please… no foster home… promise me… take care of… my son."

Charlie shook his head at his friend, his voice bordering on hysterical.

"You are going to be fine, Ethan. Don't talk like that!"

Ethan drew another staggered breath and continued.

"Charlie… you're… best friend… promise… Please, Charlie… I need you… to promise."

The desperation in Ethan's eyes tore a hole in Charlie's heart. He could tell that Ethan knew he wasn't going to make it out of this and the man had to know his son was going to be taken care of. When Charlie realized this, he swallowed hard and said the only thing he could say.

"I promise, Ethan. I will take care of him for you. I promise."

Ethan smiled as relief washed over his features. As Charlie stood, shaking his head in shocked astonishment, a huge gust of wind came tearing across the yard. The large tree trunk rocked as the wind whipped through its thick boughs and Charlie watched as the trunk shifted toward him. The roof of the car grunted under the shift in weight and suddenly the remaining roof supports began to bend, bringing the roof a few inches further onto the car's passengers. Charlie didn't hear an audible sound over the shouts of the firemen behind him, but he knew that Ethan's neck had snapped from the pressure.

Standing in shock; Charlie watched the light go out of his friend's eyes. He didn't even notice as one of the larger limbs snapped off in the wind and began to roll off the car. When a fireman in full gear grabbed him by the shoulders to pull him out of the way, Charlie didn't even have the presence of mind to use his legs.

Being drug backwards across the driveway and into the yard, Charlie's legs barely cleared the area when the heavy bough landed with a bone jarring impact right where he had just been.

Completely unaware of the passage of time; Charlie sat in the grass, soaked from the rain and chilled to the bone as the relentless wind continued to whip his hair around his face. He slowly became aware of a voice nearby asking if he was all right. A man in a black windbreaker was standing over him trying to get his attention.

"Boyle! This guy's in shock. Give me a hand with him!"

Without looking up, Charlie faintly registered that the man was talking about him. The ambient noise of the wind and the chainsaws of the rescue workers blended into an unintelligible mired of sound that barely registered on his consciousness. There was something nagging at the back of his traumatized psyche, but it was just out of reach. There was something he was supposed to do.

Then through all of the chaos surrounding him, a faint sound penetrated the din. Charlie looked around, wondering if anyone else heard it too. As an EMT dressed in a white uniform knelt down next to him, Charlie quickly stood. He moved so fast that it took the man by surprise and he nearly fell over his own bag.

Before anyone could stop him, Charlie scaled the remains of the front porch and clambered back over the broken door into the house.

"Hey! Stop. You can't go in there! Stop!"

Charlie's frantic flight into the house was halted when he got to the hallway and found that he could no longer get through in the same place he had before. When the tree shifted in the wind, it had rolled and now completely blocked off the only way to get to the back of the house.

A fireman who had heard the EMT's shouts yelled at him from the doorway as he pulled himself over the rubble that Charlie had mindlessly scaled.

"Sir, you can't be in here!"

Charlie could hear the baby's cries now and he dropped to his knees looking for another path through the branches. There was a small opening between two thick boughs and he dove in head first. He didn't notice his shirt rip when a sharp branch snagged him, leaving a great red welt down his back. Finding his way between the limbs was like climbing a tree sideways but Charlie wiggled through, errant branches snagging him all the way.

With his turn-out gear on there was no way the fireman could follow, so he called out for a chainsaw to cut a path through the branches.

Ignoring the shouts from emergency personnel outside the ruins of the house, Charlie ran headlong down the hallway to the open door of the nursery. Adam Burdick was now lying on his back, screaming like Charlie had never heard a baby cry before. Pausing only for a moment, he gingerly picked the child up and pulled him close to his chest. This did little to soothe the distressed baby and almost instinctually Charlie began to pat him lightly on the back.

"Shhhh. Don't cry, Adam. Please don't cry."

With half of the house torn open, the noise from outside echoed down the hallway and Charlie walked to the door and swung it shut to block out the racket.

Standing in the dark nursery and holding baby Adam in his arms, Charlie had no idea what to do next. Any physical injury he may have incurred remained unnoticed since the pain in his heart was all Charlie could feel. It felt as if his very soul had been torn from him and lay broken, bleeding………but most of all, he felt alone.

The images of Ethan's final moments were forever burned into his mind and his promise to his dying friend repeated in his head like a broken record. The weighty realization that now _he_ was all this baby had was so heavy that Charlie could not remain standing. He dropped to his knees and wept as the sounds of the chainsaw echoed in sharp contrast to Adam's frightened cries.

………………………………

**TBC**

**A/N -** What happened to the Burdicks in this story is quite literally a true story. Two years ago not four miles from my home, on a road that I drive on a daily basis with my children in the car, there was a dreadful accident.  
A 53 year old financial advisor was traveling up Empire Blvd. during a wind storm when a huge tree that had dry rot at its center snapped and fell across the road crushing her car flat. Really the car was like a pancake. She, of course, died instantly. As I sat rocking my 3 month old son, Adam, at 3 AM one night 7 months ago during (guess what) a wind storm I thought about that woman and her family and the idea for this story was born.  
dHALL also has a story of the same thing happening to a school teacher in her area not long ago. So even if it seems implausible, it really isn't. We both truly hope that the tragic twist to this story has not turned any of our readers away. The whole basis of this story originally was that Charlie would end up in this situation where he would become the primary care giver to this baby.  
Please continue to grace us with your comments and feedback. Both D and I truly appreciate it and it makes the work that we have put into this story really worth it.  
Thanks you and God Bless,  
Alice I


	6. Falling Down the Rabbit Hole

**Chapter Six: Falling Down the Rabbit Hole**

"Say something, Donnie."

Alan stared at the pieces of broken ceramic on the floor and then at his oldest son.

Don had gotten to his feet, deserting his breakfast when Alan told him about Charlie's initial close call with the falling tree. Now he was standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring straight ahead and shaking his head in disbelief. He hardly seemed aware that he had dropped his coffee cup.

"My God. Why in the hell didn't...somebody should have…..somebody could have contacted me."

He stopped to run the back of his hand over his mouth, which suddenly seemed very dry.

He replayed the seemly endless hours he had just spent talking to Assistant Director Merrick and the debriefing crew. He had gotten no indication from anyone that anything out of the ordinary had happened while he was on assignment. In fact, Merrick had seemed thrilled beyond reason that Don was back.

'_Because now he can arrest Valdario the minute he steps foot off his jet. Surely he knew what had happened to Charlie and he never said a word. Merrick is behind this, I know it! He kept them from contacting me. Megan would have... David, Colby... _

_Colby! Son of a Bitch! Why the hell didn't Colby say something? We spent two and a half hours in that helicopter together, then the flight home and nothing! Damn it! How could he not say anything to me about this? This isn't over... When I get back to that office...'_

Don leaned heavily against the kitchen counter forcing his anger down and trying to focus his thoughts. The fact that Charlie could have easily been killed crashed around in his skull like an errant bowling ball. But he had just seen his brother lying safe and whole on the couch in the living room, so he was able to find some semblance of balance to his emotions before he turned to look at his father.

"Dad? Was he hurt? Did he………"

The unabashed display of concern from his oldest son brought a lump to Alan's throat and he had to stop and swallow it back down before he could answer.

"He was pretty banged up, Donnie. The tree essentially destroyed the front of the house when it fell."

"And it landed across the driveway too? So Charlie's car….."

"It was damaged….but not badly."

Don nodded and pulled his lower lip between his thumb and index finger.

"What exactly happened with the tree?"

"It split down the center…..internal dry rot. The outside of the tree was alive, but inside the core was deteriorating. They called it a freak accident on the news."

"That pretty much sums it up. But……."  
Don was at a loss for words and he stuttered over what he wanted to say.  
"He…he….., Dad. How…..he could have been killed running back into the house like that."

"I don't think that ever even occurred to him, Donnie. Ethan had become almost like a………"  
Alan stopped himself, unwilling to say 'brother'. He wasn't sure if he should verbally make a comparison between Ethan and Don.  
"He was one of Charlie's best friends. And he had just watched him die. He wasn't thinking very clearly."

Without responding to his father's statement about Charlie's state of mind, Don walked quickly across the kitchen and to the door that led into the dining room. He slowed down to open it as quietly as he could. Leaving Alan behind the swinging door, Don tiptoed across the floor to where Charlie was sleeping, safe, alive and clinging to the small child resting peacefully on his chest. Carefully scrutinizing his brother's face, Don could make out a few faint scars that might not have been there before. But all in all, Charlie looked okay. Taking a closer look at the baby in his brother's arms, Don felt an oddly satisfied smile float across his face. Charlie had been through hell, and he was still holding on to this little guy. Then Don suddenly wondered if Charlie had put the kid down since the day of the accident. Turning his head back the way he came, Don watched Alan crack open the red door and summon him back to the kitchen. Giving Charlie one more glance, Don tiptoed back into the dining room.

"Come on, Donnie. Just let him sleep. "

As they headed back into the kitchen, Alan stopped for the broom to clean up the broken coffee mug.

"Your brother was in a severe state of shock, Donnie. I don't think he was immediately able to process what had happened to Ethan and his family."

………………………………

**One Month Ago**

………………………………

Charlie was kneeling on the floor of the nursery holding Adam tightly to his chest and rocking him gently. Charlie's hair and clothes were soaked through from the rain, but within moments the close contact with someone familiar began to soften the hysterical pitch to Adam's cries. Something crashed in the hallway outside the closed door and Adam began to fuss at the new disruption, but Charlie seemed unaware of his reaction to the noise, or of the noise itself.

At this point, Charlie was completely unaware of everything around him. He did not feel the sting of the multiple cuts and abrasions all over his back, arms and face, or the bite of the deep wound in his side where he had fallen into the tree. He was unaware of the sound of the chainsaw cutting through the fallen tree out in the hallway, nor did he notice the absence of that sound when they had finished. Charlie remained oblivious to the voices of the firemen calling for him as they searched the rooms off the hallway. He took no notice when the door to the nursery opened and he failed to respond to the brightness of the flashlight shining in his face.

Only when one of the firemen tried to take the baby from him did Charlie finally react. Tightening his grip around the child, Charlie pushed himself backwards off his knees and onto his posterior. Backing frantically away from the hands that were groping at him, he scooted himself across the floor until his back was resting against the wall.

"Hey, now. It's all right."

One of the firemen lowered himself to his knees in front of Charlie.

"We need to get you and the baby out of here. Come on. I won't take the baby from you but you have to come with me now."

Charlie allowed the fireman to help him to his feet and moved almost mechanically through the threshold of the nursery and down the hallway. He paused when the fireman put a restraining hand on his shoulder so that he could lead the way past the branches that had been cut from the side of the trunk.

Once he stepped through the ruined door and into the front yard, Adam began to scream again as he was assaulted by the wind and rain. Charlie bent over the baby, doing his best to shield the infant from the weather and from somewhere, a fireman's jacket was thrown over their heads. They were lead to a waiting ambulance, where the fireman coaxed Charlie up into the back and out of the storm. One of the back doors was closed providing some protection from the weather and he was guided to sit on the stretcher behind that door.

Leaving the baby in Charlie's arms, the EMT began by assessing what injuries he could get to. Cutting up the center of Charlie's shirt, he moved the torn material off of his back and over his shoulders. When disinfecting solution was applied to the raw abrasions, Charlie's body began to shiver. After loosely covering the cuts in gauze bandages, the medical technician also found a rather large bump on the back of Charlie's head. Draping a thick blanket over his bare back, the EMT moved around to face the traumatized man.

"Sir, you're gonna have to let me have the baby for a few minutes. We need to get that shirt the rest of the way off and take a look at your face and arms."

Charlie was staring straight ahead, his eyes unfocused. He didn't seem to hear the man and as the second ambulance attendant climbed into the back of the van he waved his hand in front of Charlie's face.

"Sir, can you hear me?"

"He's definitely in shock, Boyle."

"I can see that, George. But how do we get him to hand over the baby?"

George sat down next to his partner and gently wrapped his hands around Adam's waist while talking to Charlie in soothing tones.

"Listen to me now. You're in shock, you need to be treated and we can't do that while you're holding this little guy. So, I'm just gonna hold him for a few minutes."

He gently pulled on the baby, but his efforts only increased Charlie's resolve and he pulled Adam tightly to his chest again and pushed himself away from the older man.

"I… I have to take care of him."

"I know that. I do. But you have to take care of yourself to be able to do that. Can you tell me your name, son?"

"Ch… Charlie. My name is Charlie."

"Okay, Charlie. I need you to let go of this little guy for now. Can you do that for me?"

Charlie shook his head. Nothing was making sense and the only thing that he was completely sure of was that he had to hold on to this baby. He was afraid, more afraid then he had ever been and even though he couldn't quite remember why he was so frightened, he knew that Don would be able to fix it. He would know what to do and he would know what to tell these men.

"I have to call………."

As he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, Charlie suddenly remembered that Don was not going to be able to help him. Don was gone and he had no way to contact him. Lifting his eyes to the concerned EMT, Charlie's lip began to tremble.

"I can't call my…..I need to call….."

Charlie looked out of the back of the ambulance, through the door that was still open and fixed his eyes on the wreck in the driveway.

"Charlie, I want you to look at me now."

Charlie complied with the request and Boyle shined a light into his right eye.

"Do you remember if you lost consciousness when you hit your head?"

"No."

Boyle switched hands and shined the light into his other eye.

"No you don't remember, or no you never lost consciousness?"

"No, I… I don't think I passed out."

Looking over the patient again, Boyle stuck his penlight back into his pocket.

"Well, you have a pretty nasty lump on the back of your head. We need to take you to the hospital to be checked out. Do you understand that?"

Charlie looked from one man to the other. He was at a loss as to what to do and again his heart screamed out for his brother. He desperately wished that Don was there, he would know what to do. Don always knew what to do. Like Dad. Something in his mind clicked and Charlie looked up into the eyes of the concerned EMT.

"I… I have to call my f..f..father."

Charlie fumbled with the phone in his hand and Boyle took it from him and helped him find the number listed as 'dad' on his cell phone menu. Pressing the send button, he handed the phone back to the trembling young man.

The phone rang twice before Charlie heard his father pick up on the other end.

………………………………

"Hello?"

"Dad?"

"Hey, Charlie. I thought you were coming home for dinner? Did you happen to…"

Charlie didn't let him finish.

"Dad? I need…. Something…."  
A shuttered breath could be heard as Charlie tried again.  
"something…"

Alan's paternal instincts immediately took over.

"Charlie? What's wrong?"

Silence filled the other end of the line and Alan's mind ran through the possible scenarios that would leave Charlie's voice sounding that devastated… that frightened.

"Son. Tell me what happened."

"Dad, there's been an accident."

Alan felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn't heard that tone in his son's voice in a very long time.

"Are you okay? Where are you? Charlie?"

"No, Dad. I'm…. it's not me. Ethan…."

Charlie's voice cracked as he spoke his friend's name and a soft sob escaped before silence filled the line, only this time Alan waited for Charlie to pull himself together.

"There was an accident, Dad. Ethan he's… I saw him… I tried… Dad, he's dead."

"Oh, Charlie."

"Becky… and Em…Oh God, Dad."  
Charlie couldn't stop the tears as the memory of the last hour played through his mind like some surreal nightmare. His next words came out in a plaintive wail.  
"They're all dead."

Alan was glad he was standing in front of a chair when he felt his knees give out.  
"Charlie? The baby? Where is Adam?"

At the mention of Adam's name the weight of his promise to Ethan descended upon him, making him feel as though he were being crushed alive just as his friend had been. He clutched the blanket, pulling it around the baby in his arms as his shoulders shook in silent sobs. When he was finally able to speak again his voice was hollow and dead sounding. This frightened Alan more than the near hysteria had.

"They want me to…. They think I need to go to the hospital, but I don't want to go. I can't go, Dad. I have to stay here. Adam needs me to stay here. Ethan made me promise."

"I'm coming, Charlie. Stay put. I'll be right there."

Alan was sure he broke every law of the road as he sped, through the storm that was still raging, to Ethan Burdick's home. Since the streets were deserted, he didn't bother to stop at red lights. Driving as fast as he could, while still keeping the car under control in the high winds, he turned onto Sycamore Street. Alan had no trouble finding the house with all of the fire and rescue trucks parked alongside the road. But as he approached, he was flagged down by an LAPD officer and told that he couldn't go any further.

"My son is here, he was in that house! You have to let me through."

The officer stepped back from the window, speaking quickly into the radio on his shoulder and after a moment he waved Alan through. Pulling up on the grass near the ambulance, Alan got out of the car and stared in amazement at the utter destruction that lay before him. The house, from the front door all the way through the garage, was smashed to splinters by the enormous tree that had once stood at the foot of the driveway. The base of the trunk had been cut into large chunks that had been rolled off a flattened burgundy sedan. To his horror, Alan saw two firemen pull Ethan's body from the driver's side of the car. The jaws of life had been used to peel apart the metal so they could get him out and from the way that the passenger side of the car was crushed, Alan couldn't imagine how they were going to get Becky and Emily out.

Charlie said that he had seen this happen. He said that Ethan made him promise to take care of Adam, which must mean that Ethan wasn't killed instantly. Charlie had witnessed his friend die; he had seen the bodies of the precocious little girl who had won all of their hearts and her mother…

Stopping mid-thought, Alan chided himself.

'_Stop! Pull it together; Charlie needs you now.' _

Immediately heading for the house, he was stopped by a fireman.

"My son is in there with a baby!"

The fireman took Alan's arm and lead him over to the waiting ambulance where Charlie was sitting inside holding the baby, still staring at the wreck in the driveway. Both EMT's had continued their attempts to talk Charlie down, but he had become verbally unresponsive and wouldn't relinquish his hold on the infant.

Alan's heart dropped as he saw the haunted look in his son's eyes.

"Charlie?"

When he didn't respond, Alan became frightened that Charlie was injured more seriously than he had thought. He looked to the two EMTs attending him and the taller of the two men stepped forward.

"He's in shock. Are you his father?"

"Yes, is he… how is he?"

"We are still trying to assess that. Do you think you can take your grandson? Every time I try to take the baby he holds him tighter and becomes highly agitated which gets the baby crying."

Alan stepped up into the back of the ambulance and took Charlie by the shoulders, purposefully blocking his view of the wreckage and the bodies being pulled out of it.

"Charlie, look at me, son."

Again there was no response. Charlie stared straight ahead as though he were looking right through his father at the horrific scene just beyond. Alan gave him a slight shake and called his name more sharply.

"Charlie!"

The harsh tone of Alan's voice set Adam into a crying fit, which brought Charlie's eyes back into focus.

"Charlie, you're hurt. Let me take the baby so they can check you out."

Charlie impulsively held the baby tighter, but his father's firm and commanding voice broke the spell that the young mathematician was under.

"Charlie, let me hold Adam."

Charlie looked up into his eyes as if seeing him for the first time and tears suddenly welled up and dropped down his face.

"Dad?... I… What do I do?"

"You hand Adam to me and let these men do their jobs."

Alan reached over to the now crying baby and gently, yet firmly, took him from his son's arms. As soon as the baby was out of his way, George pulled the tattered remains of Charlie's shirt off. At the sight of the gash in Charlie's side, which was still bleeding heavily, the two EMTs maneuvered around Alan and forced Charlie onto his back on the stretcher.

There was no room for Alan to stay inside the ambulance with the baby, so he stepped down to the ground and was immediately assaulted with strong gusting winds and stinging rain. This made Adam start crying louder, which prompted Charlie to struggle against the medical technicians in an attempt to get to the baby. Alan gave his son what he hoped was a reassuring look as he opened his coat, pulled Adam up close to his chest, and moved away from the vehicle.

Fighting the urge to stand and watch the EMTs as they checked Charlie's injuries, Alan scanned the scene. A second ambulance had arrived while he was talking to Charlie and the two-man crew was loitering around, looking like they were unsure if they needed to stay. Deciding they were going to earn their hourly wage, Alan approached them and handed the baby off to the younger of the pair, a tow haired woman who was leaning against the back of the white van.

"He needs to stay out of the weather while I go and find a car seat for him. He's fine….He's not injured or anything. But I need to follow my son to the hospital so…….."

Alan decided against finishing his explanation and he didn't give the young woman time to object to being used as a baby sitting service. Shaking his head, he turned purposefully toward the house.

One of the firemen stopped him just a few yards shy of the collapsing structure.

"Sir, you can't go in there."

"Now you listen to me; my son is injured and I have an infant to care for. I will need a car seat to bring the baby home. I need dry clothes. I need clean diapers. I have to get into the nursery so I can get the things I need to take care of a baby."

The fireman reasserted his original statement by crossing his arms and planting his feet firmly on the ground.

"Sir, they'll have everything you'll need at the hospital, now you just need to…….."

Alan shook his head stubbornly at the fireman and took a step forward, raising his voice.

"I told you the baby isn't injured, but my son is! I need to be able to follow the ambulance to the………."

The young man cut him off mid-sentence.

"Sir, you need to calm down. I'll go in and get what you need."

Pausing to glance back at the ambulance where Charlie was being treated and the second unit where Adam was being held by a frustrated looking EMT, Alan turned back to him. This young man appeared to be in his early twenties and didn't look like he knew a diaper bag from a stroller.

"Do you have any idea what supplies I need to take care of a baby? Do you even know where the nursery is? Look son, give me a helmet and come with me if you need to but I _am_ going into that house!"

"Sir, you know I can't let you do that."

As he stood there arguing with this young man, a second fireman in full turn out gear emerged from the wreckage around the front door holding a pastel yellow diaper bag and the navy blue infant seat.

"I thought they could use this for the baby and the way this wind is blowing, no one needs to go back into that house tonight."

"Well, that's very thoughtful."

Alan tried not to sound resentful, but his frustration was evident in his voice. Taking the diaper bag and car seat, he turned back to the ambulance to check on Charlie.

To his surprise he was greeted at the back of the van by Charlie on his way out. A very dismayed looking George was standing behind him in the open doors. When Charlie spotted his father, he almost fell from the back of the open ambulance and the EMT grabbed his arm.

"DAD! Where's Adam? Where is he?"

"Charlie, you need to lie down, son."

Instead of obeying his father, Charlie climbed down out of the back of the vehicle leaving a very flustered EMT alone in the back.

"If I refuse treatment, they can't make me go. Where is he? He's my responsibility! I promised to take care of him. I promised Ethan!"

Intercepting his son, Alan was surprised by the force with which Charlie tried to push past him.

"Charlie! Calm down, Adam is in the other ambulance."

"What? Why? What happened to him? Is he all right?"

"Charlie! Adam is fine. I had to get him out of this weather so I could find a car seat. He'll be fine."

"I need to see him!"

Again Charlie tried to push past his father, and the EMT jumped from the back of the ambulance to assist him.

"Sir, we need to get you to the hospital. Now just get back in the……….."

The EMT had grabbed Charlie's arm and before he had the chance to finish his sentence, the young mathematician dropped to his knees and threw up all over the man's white shoes. Alan lifted his eyes and stared at the medical technician in shock, unsure of what to say or do.

"BOYLE! I need a hand back here!"

Clutching the EMT's arm, Charlie continued to expel the contents of his stomach on the lawn until his body began to rack with dry heaves.

The bandaging covering the wound on Charlie's side had become saturated with blood and Alan was concerned that Charlie was doing more damage to himself. Coming to his senses, Alan knelt down next to him.

"Charlie, you need to listen to me, son. You have to lie down and go to the hospital. You hit your head, you have at least one serious cut that needs stitches, and you're in shock. You can't take care of Adam by falling flat on your face. Let me help you, Charlie."

Hanging his head dejectedly, Charlie whimpered under his breath.

"I promised Ethan."

"I know you did, son. And you can keep that promise, just with a little help from your old man."

When George put his hand under Charlie's arm to help him to his feet, Alan stepped back out of the way. There was no struggle this time as the two EMT's loaded Charlie into the back of the van. Just as Boyle closed the door, Alan called in to Charlie.

"Adam and I will be right behind you. We'll see you in a few minutes."

The door slammed shut and Alan turned toward the other vehicle. The female EMT was sitting in the back holding the crying baby and looking rather put out. But as Alan retrieved the infant, she followed him to his car keeping a blanket over the baby so he would not be assailed by the wind and rain again. Uttering a quick thank you and hoping that he could keep up with the ambulance in this weather, Alan wasted no time climbing in to the driver's seat to follow his son to the hospital.

………………………………

**TBC**


	7. The Mind is Its Own Place

**Chapter Seven: The Mind is Its Own Place**

"_The Mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven" - John Milton, Paradise Lost_

Don leaned over the table and did his best to either develop x-ray vision or stare a hole through the kitchen door to get one more look at his brother. He knew Charlie was out there sleeping….safe and sound…at least physically.

"Charlie was okay, right?"

He turned back and raised his eyebrows at his father.

"I mean…he's okay now…isn't he?"

Alan heaved a deep sigh as he pulled himself to his feet. Gathering the dishes from the breakfast table he lifted his eyes to look at his oldest son.

"He was pretty tore up, Donnie. He'd just seen a ghastly thing. I saw the car myself. It was…."

Alan stopped and shuttered.

"It was horrific. Seeing them pull Ethan's body out was bad enough. I never saw Becky, or sweet little Emily. But Charlie did. Charlie did. And from what he told me…..."

He stopped again and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Watching his father's anguish manifest itself, Don shook his head in disbelief.

"Dad, this thing that happened…If I could have been here, you know…."

"Oh, Donnie. Of course we know that."

Circling back around to the table, Alan made a plate of food for Charlie with the leftovers and carried the remaining dishes to the sink.

"Don, Charlie was still trying to process what he'd seen and on top of that he'd incurred a significant head injury. He was in shock on several levels. Megan said that strong reactions to this kind of trauma are not uncommon. And to Charlie, losing Ethan was like……….."

Again, Alan was faced with using the word 'brother'.

He didn't have to when Don completed his thought out loud.

"It was like he was losing a brother."

Without responding, Alan turned and began to load the dishwasher. Don stood and walked to the cabinet, removing the plastic wrap from the shelf.

"Charlie will eat when he wakes up, right? Should I just leave this out?"

Alan nodded in silence and for several minutes the only sound in the kitchen was the clanking of glass as Alan slid the plates into the dishwasher trays. Don covered the food and put the plate on the middle of the small kitchen table before he spoke again.

"You don't have to be afraid to say it, Dad. Ethan had become one of Charlie's best friends…..almost like a brother. I understand what you're saying. I do realize that Charlie got closer to Ethan and his family than he might have gotten if I'd been around."

"Yeah, Donnie...he did…initially. But he was determined to be a friend to them. And in the long run, I don't think your presence would have affected that desire in him. But with you not being here, he just………well, that doesn't make this your fault."

Don drew his eyebrows together and shook his head.

"I know that. I know that, Dad. This kind of thing….it's nobody's fault. But…damn….. What are the odds of that happening?"

Shaking his head sadly, Alan turned away from the sink.

"One in Two Hundred Twenty Five Thousand and…….."

Alan waved his hand in the air as he tried to recall the exact number.

"Two Hundred Twenty Five Thousand and Something…….."

The corners of Don's mouth twitched in what almost could have been a smile and Alan shrugged his shoulders.

"You know your brother. He mentioned it a few times. Obsessing over facts and statistics is just his way of dealing. In fact, Megan said……"

Don cut him off.

"Megan said? I guess I should be glad she was around for this. But I just can't believe she didn't call me after what happened. What the hell? Why didn't anyone say anything to me about this?"

Seemingly ignoring Don's question, Alan turned back to the dishes.

"I'm not really sure things would have turned out as well as they did if Megan hadn't been around, Donnie. Don't be to upset with her for not contacting you. You work with an amazing group of people, son. And they did what they could to help your brother. But thank God for Megan."

Nodding in response to his father's statement, Don returned to the table and took his seat. As Alan finished up the dishes, he continued to speak.

"Your brother had always been so…..sheltered. I know he's seen a lot working with you for the past few years, Donnie. But watching someone he cared about die, and the tragedy of losing Becky and Emily as well…..it really threw him for a loop. And on top of that, there was Adam to contend with."

**1 Month Ago**

The storm was still going strong and the ride to Huntington Memorial was a harrowing one. Alan felt his heart jump to his throat every time a strong gust of wind hit the side of the ambulance ahead of him, causing it to rock precariously. This sensation of fear was only intensified as he felt his own vehicle respond to the same gusts and he had to fight to keep his vehicle in its lane.

Their progress was halted when they came across an eighteen wheeler that had succumbed to the intense winds, and had been tipped over on its side. It was laying kitty corner across the entire road and it took a full ten minutes before they were able to clear a path for the ambulance to get through. Alan had never cared much for hospitals, but when the Emergency entrance of Huntington came into view he thought that it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

By the time he got the baby, car seat and all, out of his sedan and to the emergency room entrance, the ambulance that had transported Charlie was long gone. There was no sign of him in the waiting room and Alan assumed that he had already been taken back into the bowels of the ER for treatment.

Alan announced their arrival by setting the car seat down on the top of the reception desk.

The baby was sleeping soundly although his breaths were occasionally broken by the lingering hiccupped sobs that one experiences after a long hard cry. The woman behind the desk lifted the edge of the blanket that covered the car seat, smiled at the sleeping infant and then turned to Alan with sympathetic eyes.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm here for my son. Charles Eppes. E, P, P, E, S. He was just brought in."

She answered his inquiry by handing him a clipboard and a stack of admission papers.

After Alan finished filling out the appropriate paperwork, the woman at the desk assured him that someone would be with him shortly and asked him to take a seat in the waiting room. Feeling his old loathing for hospitals returning full force, Alan sat the baby seat down on one of the hard plastic chairs and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

His first instinct was to call Don. He pushed the speed dial for the direct line to Don's office and the phone rang twice before he remembered that his oldest son was not going to be available. Quickly punching the red button to disconnect the call, Alan stared at the keypad on his phone. There was no way to contact Don. Rethinking his strategy, Alan dialed another familiar number.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Megan was halfway down the cobblestone driveway when she stopped to pull her cell phone from its holster.

"Reeves."

Colby opened the door on the black SUV and turned to look at his partner. The wind was whipping her hair around her face and if he hadn't known personally how sturdy the woman truly was, Colby might have been afraid the next gust would blow her away.

Megan's eyebrows had drawn together in concern and as she changed her previously easy stride to a brisk walk, Colby heaved a deep sigh and climbed into the driver's seat.

They had been saddled with a missing persons report early in the afternoon and they were just now leaving the home of the supposed victim's family. As it turned out, the young woman in question wasn't missing at all, but had eloped and her father was hoping his new son-in-law would be picked up on kidnapping charges. It had taken them six hours to 'find' the missing girl and another hour to convince her father that at eighteen, the girl was of legal age to marry whomever she pleased. But the case had resulted in a very long day and both agents were exhausted.

Megan was still on the phone when she climbed into the passenger seat and Colby turned to her looking dismal.

"If that's David, tell him…."

Turning her head quickly, Megan's expression alone told him to shut up and he cut himself off mid-sentence. Putting her hand over the receiver, Megan's spoke in a whisper.

"It's Alan."

Colby furrowed his brow and gave her an inquisitive stare.

"Eppes? Don's dad?"

Megan nodded as she continued to listen to whatever Alan was telling her, replying with the occasional 'uh huh' or 'yeah'. Finally she took a deep breath and glanced at her watch.

"No, Alan. Just sit tight. I'll stop and get Larry….

….Yes, I'm sure he would want to be there too…….."

She lifted her eyes to Colby.

"….No. We can call Amita…"

He nodded in response, although he had no idea what news they were supposed to deliver to CalSci's newest professor.

"….No, Alan. Don't be sorry. I'm glad you called. We needed to know about this. Charlie is one of ours, after all. We take care of our own, Alan…….

….of course. I'll see you shortly."

Ending the call, Megan sat her phone in her lap and clasped her hands together. Colby had started the SUV and he put it in reverse backing out of the long winding driveway at full speed.

"Charlie?"

Megan nodded grimly.

"Yeah. Huntington."

Pulling the vehicle out onto the street, Colby slammed the transmission into drive and hit the gas.

"Do I need to alert Merrick? Are we gonna need to pull Don?"

Shaking her head, Megan rubbed her hands together as if she were trying to warm them.

"No. I don't think so. Alan said he thought the physical injury was minimal."

"What the hell happened?"

"I was hoping you'd grab David and head over to the scene and find out. But first we need to stop by CalSci and find Larry."

………………………………

With Megan's reassurances echoing in his mind, Alan suddenly felt both drained and anxious to get moving. The end result was that he found himself pacing back and forth, consumed with a nervous energy that almost rivaled his youngest.

A stuttering squall from under the blanket that covered the car seat got his attention and Alan lifted the garment away and unbuckled the baby. Adam's cries were soon quieted, but the reprieve was only temporary and after only a few minutes he began to wail in what was obviously a hunger cry. Since Alan had not been able to enter the Burdick's home, he had no bottles or formula in the diaper bag that the fireman had grabbed for him. Hoping that they would get him a bottle from the hospital nursery, he approached the reception desk to explain the situation.

"Eppes?"

The sound of his family name being called out into the busy waiting area diverted him from his mission and Alan made a b-line toward the doctor.

"I'm Alan Eppes. Is Charlie all right?"

Adam continued to wail over his inquiry and the doctor smiled and held out her hand. She was a diminutive woman with shocking red hair, a surprisingly strong grip and a bright and genuine smile.

"I'm Doctor Myra O'Neil, Mister Eppes."

Adam answered her introduction with an insistent scream and the doctor turned her attention to the infant. "My, my...we've had a rough evening haven't we?"

Alan nodded and cradled the baby in his arms.

"I'm afraid he has. And I wasn't able to get a bottle or anything packed for the little guy."

"I think we can take care of that."

The doctor stepped over to the bench and picked up the car seat.

"We'll get some formula for him from the nursery and then we can talk about your son."

Alan followed Dr. O'Neil into the emergency department and as she led him past the nurses station, she called out to one of the women behind the desk to bring a few bottles of formula for the baby. At the end of the hallway there was a small lounge with a tidy kitchenette and she led him inside. Only moments after Alan had gotten himself seated at the small circular table in the center of the room, a young woman in colorful scrubs entered with several miniature bottles of formula.

Once Adam had what he was looking for, he settled quickly to the task of polishing off the small bottle. While Alan fed him the first two ounce bottle, Dr. O'Neil opened and prepared two more and put them on the edge of the table in easy reach for the older man.

"Your grandson is beautiful."

"Oh, he isn't my grandson. Charlie was visiting the baby's parents when…"

Alan stopped mid-sentence as he realized that he had no idea why the Burdick family, with the exception of Adam, were in the car to begin with.

"Charlie, my son, was visiting a friend. Their older child Emily has...had leukemia and wasn't doing well. She must have become ill and needed to go to the hospital. Charlie must have been staying behind to watch over Adam when it happened."

Dr. O'Neil took a seat across from her patient's father.

"So this little guy was orphaned tonight?"

Alan looked confused for a moment and then glared at her suspiciously.

"Yes, he was. But Charlie said that Ethan wanted him to..."

He waved his hand in the air dismissively, then traded out Adam's empty bottle for another.

"The baby will be taken care of. How is my son?"

Dr. O'Neil nodded sympathetically and she moved on to the details of Charlie's injuries.

"He has a fairly large lump on the back of his head, which may have caused a concussion. The EMT that brought him in told me he was injured in a house collapse and that three people were killed."

Alan nodded to confirm her statement and she continued speaking.

"But I can't get any details from Charlie. He won't respond to any of my questions. Right now, he's down in the Radiology department getting a CT scan. Most of the cuts and abrasions on his back, arms and face are superficial and will heal up on their own. He does have a rather deep laceration along his left side that required stitches. I've ordered a chest x-ray just to be on the safe side. But I must be honest with you, Mister Eppes, my biggest concern is the emotional trauma that he has experienced."

Adam released his hold on the bottle and began to play with his fingers and Alan gazed somberly at the orphaned child in his arms.

"Yes. Ethan, the baby's father, died right in front of him."

"Psychological trauma can be just as, if not more serious than physical wounds in a situation like this. Charlie is in a state of severe emotional shock. He's not responding verbally to any questions...and..."

The doctor hesitated and Alan gave her his full attention.

"Not only is he ignoring external stimuli, Mister Eppes, he's indiscriminately muttering……numbers…just random numbers."

Alan raised his eyebrows at her nonchalantly as he lifted the baby over his shoulder to burp him.

"Oh, I doubt very much if they're random."

"You don't seem at all surprised."

She opened the chart in her lap and began writing.

"Has he done this before?"

"Now wait just a damn minute."

When Dr. O'Neil had first introduced herself, Alan had immediately liked her. But now she was making unwarranted assumptions about Charlie's mental state. Feeling very defensive, Alan glared at her.

"My son..."

"...has experienced a physical and emotional trauma, Mister Eppes. He's displaying classic symptoms of severe PTS disorder. I'm going to keep him overnight for observation and I'm also recommending him for a psychological evaluation."

Alan continued to pat the baby gently on the back as he stared at her, flabbergasted, unsure of how to reply. Adam belched loudly as she continued to speak.

"Does the child have any other family members to come get him?"

As he cleaned the spit-up off of the baby's chin, Alan shook his head.

"Not that I know of."

With a sad smile, Dr. O'Neil got to her feet.

"Okay. I'll call social services to come get the baby. We'll keep him here overnight and hopefully get him into a foster home in the morning."

"You'll do no such thing."

Pulling himself to his feet, Alan cradled Adam in his arms protectively.

"Ethan, the baby's father, asked Charlie to take care of him. The Burdicks would never want their son put into the 'system'."

"Mister Eppes..."

As she started to speak, Dr. O'Neil returned to her chair at the table.

"Charlie is in no condition to be the primary care giver to this baby. And with nothing more than an un-witnessed verbal request..."

"There were firemen on the scene...and Charlie lives with me."

He quickly corrected himself.

"I suppose I should say that I live with him. It's his house. I can help with the baby until he recovers from this."

"That's good to hear, Mister Eppes. A very strong support system is one of the things that they look for in foster parents. But I am obligated to call social services and they'll have to sort this out."

Alan knew that she was only doing her job, but now he wished he had allowed her to believe that Adam was Charlie's child. The mere possibility that Adam could be taken from them and thrown into the foster care system made Alan sick to his stomach.

"Do what you must. In the meantime, I'd like to see my son."

His cold tone was not lost on Dr. O'Neil and she regretted causing stress for an already traumatized patient. But she had to consider what was best for the child and she tried to portray that in her expression as she shook her head at the irate man.

"He won't be back from Radiology for at least a half an hour. You can wait here if you like. As soon as they bring him back up, I'll have one of the nurses come and get you."

Alan stood up quickly. Holding the baby with one arm, he scooped up the car seat with the other.

"Thank you, Doctor. But I'd rather wait in the lobby if its all the same to you. I called a few of Charlie's friends and they'll be here shortly. If you'd like to see my son's 'support system' maybe you should meet them. They're like family."

With that, Alan turned to walk from the room and Dr. O'Neil stood and followed him down the hall.

"The ER has a limit of two visitors per patient, but I think we can make an exception in Charlie's case. It might do him good to see a few familiar faces and it'll be a while before we can get him into a room for the night. I'll make sure he is in the treatment room closest to the triage area and furthest away from the main hub of activity in the ER. That way three or four people can visit without causing a traffic issue, but no more than four visitors."

Alan's opinion of Dr. O'Neil went up a notch as he realized that she was making concessions for their unique situation any way that she could. The very idea of handing Adam over to a social worker was deplorable and the possible consequences of such an occurrence weighed heavy on his mind. Given the way Charlie had reacted to handing Adam over to his own father, knowing he had been taken by strangers could potentially throw him into a deep depression and exacerbate the emotional trauma that he had already suffered. Alan had no intention of allowing that to happen.

Dr. O'Neil left him at the door and as Alan walked back out to the reception lounge, he was overjoyed to see Megan, Larry and Amita. As soon as she saw Alan, Megan stood and crossed the room to meet him.

"Alan, how's Charlie?"

"He's having a CT scan and some x-rays right now. The doctor thinks he may have a concussion. But it's not the physical injuries she's worried about."

As Alan began to explain the series of events that had brought them all to the stark white waiting room at Huntington Memorial, the expression on the three faces before him went from relief to horror. When he revealed the conversation with Doctor O'Neil concerning Adam's welfare, Megan sat forward with a worried expression.

"Alan, did anyone hear Ethan ask Charlie to take care of Adam?"

Alan looked down at the child in his arms. He was aware of how complicated and unjust things could get when an agency that existed 'for the benefit of the child' got involved in situations like this. The department of 'Social Services' held just as much of a stigma for him as the FBI once had and Alan couldn't fight off the feeling of dread that Megan's question evoked.

"I don't know if there was anyone else around when Ethan….."

He stopped and sighed.

"If anyone did it would have been one of the firemen that were at the scene."

"Colby and David are heading over there now. I'll tell them to look into that. I also have a friend who might be able to help us. If Adam has no living family then we might be able to make Ethan's dying wish a legal reality. But, Alan, I have to ask you….do you think that is what Charlie wants?"

"I honestly don't know, Megan."

Alan lifted Adam up over his shoulder and began to pat him gently on the back.

"Charlie cares about this baby, that much I do know. And he made a promise to Ethan. He won't take that lightly."

Amita leaned forward and looked inquisitively at the agent.

"What if it turns out that there _is_ family somewhere?"

"In that case the family would have to be contacted."

Megan shook her head.

"Unless the Burdicks have a living will that names a guardian for their children, legally the family would have an innately strong claim to take custody of the baby."

Larry had remained silent, but now he stood and put his hands together in front of his chest in his customary gesture of deep thought.

"What about provisional custody, Megan? Even for an infant, the separation anxiety from losing every caregiver he is familiar with could be phenomenally damaging."

Megan had opened her mouth to reply, but the conversation was halted when the nurse stepped into the waiting area and called for Alan.

Alan rose to his feet and turned to Larry and Amita.

"I don't know how he's going to react to seeing all four of us. But it has to be better than what they've gotten out of him so far….and that's nothing."

The nurse led the group into the ER and down a short corridor to the left of the entry doors. Charlie was sitting up on the bed staring straight ahead, but his eyes were unfocused. He was pale and although the cuts on his arms were bandaged and the scrapes on his face had been cleaned, he looked as if he had been through a war zone. His hair appeared to still be damp in places and where it had dried, the curls had trapped a few stray twigs and leaves from the tree.

Alan stepped forward, but Charlie seemed to take no notice of him. Adam had finally fallen asleep again and Megan took the slumbering burden from Alan's arms so he could give his full attention to his son.

"Charlie?"

When he made no move to indicate that he had heard him, Alan looked back at Megan and the others with real concern etched on his face. He heard Dr. O'Neil's words echo in his mind.

"_He's displaying classic symptoms of severe PTS disorder. I'm going to keep him overnight for observation and I'm also recommending him for a psychological evaluation."_

Charlie needed to snap out of this now. When the doctor had said he wasn't responding to external stimuli, Alan had no idea how literal the statement had been. Sitting down on the bed that Charlie was in, he took his youngest son by the hand and was shocked at how cold it was.

"Charlie? I need you to look at me, son."

Still getting no response, Alan reached over and took his son's chin, turning his head so that he was looking directly at him.

"Charlie? Can you hear me?"

Again, there was no response and Alan felt a deep seeded fear spread through his chest.

"Charlie, you are starting to scare me. Please, answer me."

The fear that Alan spoke of was evident in his voice and that seemed to penetrate the haze in Charlie's mind. He blinked a couple of times and then his eyes focused on his father's face. Instantaneously, the vacant look in Charlie's eyes was replaced with pain and an unfathomable sadness. Charlie's shoulders started to shake slightly as tears welled up in his eyes.

"Dad?"

Charlie's voice cracked as he spoke and the anguish that was plainly visible on his face cut though all of their hearts. The tears in his eyes escaped and ran in beads down his pale cheeks and suddenly Alan felt compelled to action. Although he hadn't physically embraced his sons in years, he quickly moved up the bed and pulled Charlie into his arms. Charlie's body shuddered as he began to sob heavily into his father's shirt.

Larry stood in the doorway, with both hands covering his mouth and Amita could not suppress her own tears at seeing Charlie in so much pain. Megan moved so that she was in Alan's line of vision and mouthed, _"We will be back." _Then she silently ushered the others out of the room.

"I don't think Charlie would want us to see him like that."

Amita nodded in agreement and wiped the tears from her eyes. As they turned to walk away from the closed door, a petite red headed woman walked up to them.

"Hello. You must be the 'friends' that Mister Eppes mentioned. I'm Doctor O'Neil."

Megan handed the baby to Amita and held out her hand to the small woman. She was surprised by the firm grip but she didn't let it show.

"Yes, in fact, we are. I'm Special Agent Megan Reeves with the FBI…."

This got the reaction from the woman that Megan had been counting on and she continue with the introductions.

"This is Doctor Ramajuan and Doctor Flienhardt."

At the words 'Special Agent' Dr. O'Neil's eyes had widened, but the introduction of two 'doctors' didn't seem to impress her. She shook their hands politely and turned to let herself into Charlie's room. Stepping forward, Megan put her hand over the door handle.

"We really should give them a few minutes. If you can spare me a little time I would like to discuss the situation with Charlie."

Amita and Larry got the hint and quickly moved off to the reception lounge, leaving Megan and Dr. O'Neil alone in the short hallway. She knew immediately that this woman was going to be a hard nut to crack so Megan moved ahead without giving the doctor an opportunity to say that she really didn't have time to talk.

"I haven't had a chance to evaluate Charlie's emotional state, but Alan had mentioned that you were very concerned."

Dr. O'Neil regarded her suspiciously.

"_You _haven't evaluated him? I though you said you were with the FBI?"

"Oh, I am…"

Megan pulled out her badge to show it to the doctor.

"I am the psychological analyst for the Los Angeles branch of the bureau. I am also a close personal friend of Doctor Eppes and his family. In fact, Doctor Eppes' brother is my boss."

"_Doctor _Eppes?"

Megan couldn't stop the smile that was pulling at the corners of her mouth. She was pleased that she was leading this woman so well and she quickly moved in for the kill.

"Yes ma'am. Your patient is Doctor Charles Edward Eppes. He is a professor of applied mathematics at CalSci, as well as a consultant for the FBI, CDC and the NSA. The FBI is looking into the tragedy that took the life of his colleague Ethan Burdick and his family. We are naturally very concerned for the well being of Doctor Eppes, as well as the welfare of Ethan Burdick's surviving son."

Dr. O'Neil stared in awe at the tall woman standing in front of her. Trying to hide her shock at the numerous well placed connections that her patient had, she smiled.

"Agent Reeves, why don't we take a walk down to my office?"

"Certainly."

Megan answered her curtly and smiled to herself as the small woman turned to lead the way.

After a few moments, Charlie managed to get a hold of himself and he pulled away from his father. Just as quickly as the tears had come, they were gone.

"I'm sorry."

Sitting back, Alan searched his son's face for a hint of the emotional outburst that he'd just witnessed. But except for the moisture on his cheeks and the puffiness around his eyes, there was none.

"Why, Charlie? After what you've just been through? You have nothing to be sorry for, you have every right to feel this way."

Charlie hunched forward and wrapped his arms around his own shoulders.

"I just can't get Emily's face out of my mind, or Ethan's. I never really saw Becky, just the…"

He couldn't bring himself to mention the blood that he had seen where Becky's body should have been. Charlie shuddered and he fought back the urge to dissolve into another round of uncontrolled sobbing. Hugging himself even tighter, he shook his head trying to clear the images from his mind.

"They're dead, Dad. I watched Ethan die. He was there and talking to me and then he...he was dead. Just like that."

Charlie's voice was beginning to take on a hysterical pitch that Alan hadn't heard from his youngest son in years and the sudden regression was alarming.

"Dad, I want to go home."

Alan stood up and put his hand on Charlie's trembling shoulder.

"You should lay down, Charlie. Try to get some rest. I'll go talk to the doctor."

Charlie curled up on the bed and clutched a blanket, which had been draped over his legs, tightly to his chest.

"I just want to go home."

Alan could see tears welling up in his eyes again and in an aberrant moment of tenderness, he stepped up to Charlie's side and brushed an unruly cluster of curls off of his forehead.

"Just sleep now, my boy. Just sleep. I'll take care of it."

Stepping out of the room, Alan gently closed the door behind him. Glancing down the corridor he saw Megan and Dr. O'Neil round the corner, heading back in his direction. Alan met them midway down the hall.

"He wants to go home."

"He's talking to you, then?"

"Yes, and he's asked to go home. How were his x-rays?"

"They just brought me the lab report a few minutes ago. Charlie doesn't have any broken ribs, but his CT scan showed some minor intracranial swelling, as well as significant soft tissue swelling along the scalp."

Alan narrowed his eyes at her questioningly.

"What does that mean?"

"It means he has a large bump and a mild concussion. I want to keep him overnight for observation and we still need to get that psychological consultation to assess him for Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome."

Alan turned to glance at Megan. He wanted what was best for Charlie, but something told him they weren't likely to grant custody of a child, much less an infant, to a man with severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Megan seemed to understand his concerns without verbal queues and nodded to him. This was not lost on Dr. O'Neil but she misinterpreted the nod to mean something else and stepped up to the older man.

"Mr. Eppes, Agent Reeves has explained to me about Charlie's...unique situation and why she is required to observe the psych evaluation. If you had only mentioned it to me earlier, we could have avoided some of this unpleasantness. I didn't know about your son's…... government affiliations."

Alan raised his eyebrows at her hesitation to describe Charlie's ties to the FBI. He had to force himself to resist asking Dr. O'Neil what she meant by that and he shifted his eyes to Megan as she continued to slowly nod her head, prompting him to choose his words carefully. Whatever the federal agent had said to this doctor, her tone and demeanor when speaking of Charlie had changed completely. Pausing to clear his throat, Alan crossed his arms and glared at her.

"Oh… I see. Do you have children, Doctor O'Neil?"

The question caught the woman off guard and she looked up at him warily.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. But they are still quite young."

"Well, take it from this old man, when your children grow up and go out into the world and find jobs... you will not think of them by what it is they have chosen to do for a living, or by the place they hold in society. You will always see them as your children. Nothing more, nothing less. Whatever else he may be to the world, that man in there is my son...my child...and he is in pain. That is all I care about and I will do whatever is necessary to keep him safe and prevent him from experiencing more pain. Emotional or otherwise."

The thinly veiled threat was not lost, but the genuine concern and love this man displayed for his son seemed to have entranced both women for a moment. Then a door slammed somewhere down the hall and broke the spell.

"We'll see if we can't get our psychologist up here tonight, Mister Eppes. I'm going to re-examine him now and we'll go ahead and get him admitted and moved up to a private room.

"I'll wait in the lounge then. Please let me know when you're finished so that I can be with him."

"Of course."

Dr. O'Neil turned toward the examination room where they had left Charlie, while Alan and Megan headed for the emergency room reception area. They found Larry and Amita sitting together and talking quietly, while Amita rocked the baby gently in her arms. As soon as they saw Alan and Megan, Larry got to his feet.

"How is he?"

"Well, he's pretty banged up and they're going to keep him overnight. I don't think he's up to seeing anyone tonight. But, Larry...Amita...I need a favor from you."

"Of course, Mister Eppes. What can we do?"

Amita set the tone for the conversation by whispering in an attempt not to disturb the baby sleeping in her arms and Alan followed her example.

"I want you two to take Adam home for me. I don't want any social worker coming in here and getting ideas about this little boy. If he isn't here, then they can't get their claws on him."

Amita, Larry and Megan exchanged dubious glances as they marveled at the fierceness in Alan's tone.

Larry touched Megan gently on the arm.  
"We won't be putting you in a...difficult position. I mean..."

He hesitated and placed the palms of his hands together in front of his chest.

"We aren't conspiring to commit a felony in the presence of a federal agent, are we?"

Megan smiled sweetly at the concerned physicist.

"No, Larry. I don't think getting this little guy out of here and into a nice warm house qualifies as a kidnapping. You have the FBI's blessing. And I left a message for Robin Brooks. I'm sure she'd be willing to help us out with this. I've already talked to the doctor, so I don't think security will stop you on the way out."

Alan looked at her doubtfully.

"Yes, well...I don't know what you said to the her, but thank you. She didn't seem quite as fired up about calling those vultures down at social services after you got done with her."

Megan couldn't hide the bemused smile on her face. She had never heard Alan speak with such obvious distain for a government organization. Don had told her on more than one occasion that his father had issues with the FBI, but she had never seen it directed at herself or anyone on Don's team. She had even defended Alan when Don made a crack about his father's attitude after the Stirling case. He had jokingly insisted that his father's loathing of the federal government qualified as borderline paranoia. Now she could almost envision exactly what Don had been referring to.

"I simply explained that 'Doctor' Eppes was a consultant for the FBI as well as several other government agencies and we were all deeply concerned about the incident. Although I never said it, she somehow got the impression that Ethan worked for us as well. I told her that due to Charlie's top security clearance, it was mandatory for a government psychologist, namely me, to be present for the psych consult and that the Bureau would be more than willing to share my evaluation with her."

Larry looked fondly at Megan.

"Remind me never to play poker with you."

She smiled in response, but her tone was serious.

"I didn't tell her anything that was untruthful, Larry. We can't have someone with that sort of knowledge being interviewed by an unknown doctor while he's in such a fragile emotional state. Not without someone present representing the interests of the various agencies he's consulted for."

At the mention of Charlie's 'fragile emotional state' the mood became somber again and Alan sat down in one of the hard plastic chairs and looked up at Megan.

"Just how 'fragile' is he, right now?"

Larry shook his head.

"In all of the years that I have known Charles, I've never seen him cry. He tends to present a certain… subtle neurotic quality and yes, he admittedly wears his heart on his sleeve. But I've never seen him truly weep, not openly, Alan...not like that."

Alan turned to the physicist suddenly realizing that Larry knew his son as well, if not better, than he did.

"Larry's right. That's one of the few traits he shares with his brother. They just deal in different ways. But I've never seen him this bad before, Megan. Even when Margaret died...after her funeral, Charlie tried to go back to the garage. But Donnie…..he wouldn't let him. I know he cried then….Don was with him for that. But every time he'd phase out, Don reeled him back in. Then after the incident with those bank robbers a few years back……."

"That's right."

Bringing his head up, Larry rubbed his fingers over his chin in classic Flienhardt fashion.

"I believe they were called The Charm School Boys."

Alan nodded as he continued speaking.

"He withdrew then. It didn't last long, Don really got in his face that time. But I've never seen it go this far. I don't think he even realized that any of you were there."

Amita leaned over the carrier seat, laying Adam gently into it and began to buckle him in. Gathering up the diaper bag, Larry took Amita's keys and headed for the door.

"I'll go get the car."

Alan pulled himself to his feet and draped the blanket back over the handle of the car seat covering the sleeping infant.

"Charlie gets lost in there sometimes…..in his head. I know you may not understand that, Megan. But it's just a part of the way his mind works, it always has been. But Don has always managed to get through to him when he got lost."

No one had to verbalize what Alan was thinking and Megan nodded her head sympathetically. Charlie's near catatonic state when they first stepped into the exam room had deeply disturbed her, but his emotional reaction to his father was a good sign.

"He chose not to keep it all bottled up inside of himself, Alan. An outward expression of grief is the first step toward healing from this kind of extreme emotional trauma. It may take time, but I think he'll snap out of it."

Amita turned to give the behavioral analyst an intent look.

"How much time are we looking at here, Megan?"

Megan gave them both an encouraging smile as she glanced from Amita to Alan.

"I suppose that's really up to Charlie."

………………………………

**TBC**


	8. Despair Has Its Own Calms

**Chapter Eight: Despair Has Its Own Calms**

Don could feel an uncommon swell of emotion rising up in his chest and he quickly got to his feet. He wanted to charge into the living room, wake Charlie up and demand that he talk to him about what had happened. He needed to hear Charlie say that he was okay. Don turned toward the door to the dining room, but rethinking his direction, he turned on his heel and headed toward the rear of the house, keeping his back to his father.

He stopped at the patio door and stared out the glass at the Koi pond in the backyard. Taking a deep breath, Don tried to calm the unsteady array of feelings that were fighting their way past his defenses.

"Donnie, are you okay?"

Alan's voice sounded from the table behind him and Don blew the air slowly out of his lungs. When he answered, it was in a whisper that he knew his father could not hear.

"No. Not really."

Without waiting to see if Alan intended to follow up on his question, Don opened the door and loped across the yard to the pond. Reprimanding himself for allowing his emotions to escape him, he stared down at the brightly colored fish. The surface of the water rippled as they began to gather in the center of the pond waiting to be fed. Don cleared his throat and ran his hand over his face, making every effort to pull himself together as he listened for the telltale sound of the backdoor opening behind him.

Charlie had been through hell and he hadn't been here to help him get through it. In spite of the voice of reason telling him that no one was to blame, the desire to assign culpability for the events that had transpired in his absence was overwhelming. The self allocated guilt that Don was harboring in his gut was reignited and his emotions made another attempt to escape his control.

'_You're exhausted. You haven't slept in over thirty six hours and you're damn lucky **you're **still alive after what you've been through the past three months. Charlie is okay. You saw him. Now get a grip, Eppes.'_

The backdoor creaked open behind him and Don braced himself for what his father was going to say.

"Donnie, there isn't anything you could have done."

Kneeling down next to the Koi pond, Don ran his fingers through the water.

"I could have been here...I _should_ have been here. Charlie shouldn't have been alone….."

Don tried to cut himself off before the words escaped his lips, but he failed and his regret was instantaneous.

"Even if you don't count me, he was far from alone, Donnie."

Pulling himself to his feet, Don turned to face his father; regret vied with the anger in his face. He was furious with not only himself for his absence, but with his team for allowing his absence to continue when his family needed him so much. His implication that he was the only one who could have seen Charlie though this was obviously a fallacy that smacked of ego.

"Dad, I didn't mean……"

"I know what you meant. I told you that there were plenty of times in the past few months that we both wished you were here. And I'll admit that seeing your brother hurting…in pain….the first thing I wanted to do was call you."

Alan crossed the yard and stopped to stand next to his oldest son.

"Charlie was…. I looked into his eyes and it was like no one was there. Whenever your brother is upset, he always expresses his fear, his anger…everything through math…through numbers. I was actually relieved when the doctor said he was counting out loud. Of course, she thought he was having a psychotic episode."

Don smiled in spite of the seriousness of his father's comment.

"At least it's not binge drinking and strip clubs."

Alan looked at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Something Terry said once… about Charlie."

He shook his head to dismiss the distant memory.

"We've seen him shut everything out before, Dad… including us. He's done that before."

"No, Donnie. Not like this. I honesty didn't know how to handle it. Your mother, she knew, she always knew. She knew what to say and how to say it, but I never did. She could get through to him and after she left us, I wasn't sure either of us would ever be able to. But somehow you managed it. Somehow you got inside that head of his and made him listen to you. And I was so afraid, Donnie… I was so afraid that without you here……."

The tone of his father's voice prompted Don to turn and face him. Taking in the lines of sorrow and regret around his eyes, Don wondered just how much damage his absence had really done. Alan straightened his shoulders and looked at Don to be certain that he heard what he was about to say.

"I was afraid that Charlie was hopelessly lost, but he wasn't. He snapped out of it. Yes, he cried like a frightened child in my arms; but that was something he needed to do. Yes, it might have been easier for him if you had been here; but he made it through, Donnie. Blaming yourself or your team will only cause pain that does not need to be felt... by anyone."

Don's shoulders sagged with exhaustion as he realized his father had made a valid point; he just wished his heart would listen to those words.

"I know that none of this is my fault. My absence during all of this…..I know that my being here wouldn't have miraculously kept that tree from falling…I _know _that…so why do I still feel so guilty?"

Looking into his son's weary eyes, Alan could see the turmoil he was trying to conceal. "Don, when was the last time you slept?"

Grimacing at the officious tone in his father's voice, Don tilted his head and looked at the sky as if trying to recall an exact number.

"It's been…..It's been too long…something close to two days."

"I think we need to postpone the rest of this conversation."

Alan crossed his arms and gave Don another head to toe glance.

"From the looks of you, I'd say you're not in much better shape than your brother in there."

Don's eyes narrowed as he ran his hand over his mouth. He knew there was no point initiating an argument with his father, but he couldn't stop himself from retorting.

"I really don't want to talk about it, Dad. Besides, I told you, I'm all right."

"All right? You look half dead, Donnie."

Knocking some of the displeasure from his voice, Alan continued.

"If you don't want to talk about what happened to you down there, I'll respect that."

"Good."

Despite his father's genuine concern, Don found it impossible to hide his annoyance at being cosseted. "Just tell me what happened after Charlie………."

Interrupting Don's demand, Alan turned toward the house.

"We'll continue this later, after you've had some sleep.

Running his teeth over his bottom lip Don lowered his head, exasperated at how easily his emotions had overrun his rationality. His father was right, he was too exhausted to face this right now. But regardless of what his good sense told him, Don had to hear the rest of the story.

"Come on, I'm sorry. I just…..I really couldn't sleep now, even if I wanted to. I need to know what happened with Charlie."

Turning to glance at his son, Alan nodded hesitantly as he walked back toward the house and Don started across the lawn after him.

"You said they did a psychiatric evaluation? I thought Megan……"

Alan interrupted with a disgusted tone, "…….was going to sit in. Not conduct it. And even with her there, Charlie……..."

Don cut his father off as reached to open the back door.

"What the hell happened, Dad? Adam is obviously still here and Charlie's not sitting in a padded room somewhere writing numbers on the walls. So what happened to him?"

……………………………

**28 Days Ago**

………………………………

The sky was still overcast from the previous night's storm and although the sun had risen, the morning had taken on the gloomy cast of twilight. As Alan made his way toward the kitchen a soft voice singing in a light falsetto halted him at the foot of the stairs.

"_Frere Jacques, Frere Jacques, Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous? Sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines. Ding ding dong, ding ding dong."_

Stepping quietly around the corner as the verse was repeated, Alan stopped in the doorway. Larry was pacing assiduously up and down the floor looking anxious and exceptionally uncomfortable with the baby held tightly to his chest. Adam was staring out over the blanket he had been wrapped in, tears glistening on his cheeks. He was not crying, but every few minutes he would hiccup lightly as if he had spent the whole night wailing at the top of his lungs. When the physicist finished the verse, Alan cleared his throat and stepped into the room.

"You know, Larry, he doesn't even speak English yet."

Smiling guiltily, Larry stopped pacing and leaned against the kitchen counter.

"I must confess, it's the only lullaby I can recall from my childhood. But it seems to have done the trick. I'm terribly sorry, did my caterwauling wake you?"

Shaking his head, Alan made a b-line for the coffee pot.

"I barely remember having gone to bed and I haven't heard a thing since my head hit the pillow."

"Well, you had every right to be exhausted, Alan. You needed the sleep."

Reaching into the cabinet for the coffee filters, Alan turned to glance at the fatigued expression that Larry openly wore.

"You should have waked me. Have you been up all night with him?"

"Oh, no, I got a sufficient amount of sleep."

Larry shook his head adamantly and flitted his eyes toward the door.

"Amita is far more vigilant than I. She fears the formula provided by the hospital nursery wasn't what his digestive tract was used to and he's been a trifle colicky. She was up with him until just a few hours ago, and then she ran home to grab a nap before she has to give her first final."

Turning the coffee pot on to brew, Alan walked around the counter and took Adam from the arms of the weary man.

"Well, thank you for staying and when you see her, let Amita know how much she's appreciated."

"Oh, she's coming back here to grade her examinations; so you can leave Adam in more capable hands than my own when you go back to the hospital."

Larry collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs and leaned across the table, resting his chin in his hands.

"Tell me, Alan, how _did _Charlie's meeting with the mental health assessor go?"

"I'm actually waiting to hear from Megan. She's said she'd stop by. I wanted to sit in, but she didn't think it would be a good idea. I trust her, but…….."

"You're still a little nervous?"

Nodding his head slightly, Alan heaved a deep sigh.

"The doctor thought he was having a total mental breakdown, Larry. And for all I know, he was."

"Charles just needs some time to recover, Alan. He is far more resilient than you might think."

They met each other's eyes and Alan smiled dismally.

"That's what I'm hoping for."

Adam interrupted the moment as he began to fuss loudly, making an effort to kick the small blanket off of his legs. Larry shifted in his seat so he could get a better look at the struggling baby.

"I picked up formula, diapers and a few other things last night on the way here. I'm afraid I know very little about the intricate requirements of the human infant, but these seemed to be….."

Larry paused to rub the bridge of his nose vigorously with his index finger.

……the most logical choices. Hopefully that's enough to get by on."

Alan eyed the massive array of baby supplies that were spread out over the counter.

"And how much do I owe you, Larry?"

"Now, that's not necessary…….."

Larry's objection was cut off by a light knock at the patio door.

"That would be Megan."

Alan went about the business of preparing a bottle and Larry walked briskly to the backdoor and opened it for Megan.

"Good morning."

Greeting the physicist with a kiss, she stepped into the kitchen.

"Alan, how's our little guy?"

"Hungry. How's Charlie?"

She nodded almost to herself for a moment as she drew in a deep breath and Alan felt the color drain from his face.

"Is it that bad?"

"No…not really. Things actually went quite well, Alan. Charlie recounted the whole incident and maintained his composure.…right until………."

Alan had circled around the counter and took a seat at the table, giving Adam his bottle.

"Until what?"

"When he asked Charlie how 'the experience' had made him feel, he….he called the man a…."

Megan almost laughed over the words.

"a pompous jackass."

She paused until Larry and Alan were done chucking at the comment, since her next statement had very little humor in it.

"Then Charlie proceeded to ask him how _he _would feel if he'd just seen what a 200 year old Maple tree does when it lands on a car full of people."

"Oh, Charles."

Larry leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together in front of his face.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Alan narrowed his eyes at her.

"Megan, what did he say?"

"The Psychologist? Oh, he didn't take it very well. He got a little snooty and asked Charlie if he really understood the ramifications of Ethan's request and….well; let's just say I'm not in a hurry to get into a spitting match with your son."

"Megan?"

Sighing deeply, Megan made her way to the freshly brewed pot of coffee.

"It went something like this…. "I was in Princeton by the time I was thirteen, I'd earned my first PhD before my eighteenth birthday, I'm a tenured professor…." and so on and so forth. Charlie threw out a list of intellectual accomplishments, half of which I didn't even comprehend and then he blurted out his IQ. He essentially called the man a moron, then he asked him if he had any reasonable questions to ask and that pretty much ended the interview."

"Oh my Lord."

Larry clasped his hand firmly over his mouth and Alan looked up at her, his eyes widened with disbelief.

"Megan, what will they do to him?"

"Do to him? Alan, Charlie did fine. He made it very clear that he was perfectly capable of grasping the impact of Ethan's request and that he was fully prepared to take it on. He was verbally and emotionally expressive. I think all in all it went very well."

"It went well?"

Megan turned to Larry and nodded her head.

"Yes. They have no reason to think he's incapable of caring for himself….or anyone else for that matter."

Sitting down next to Charlie's father, Megan put her hand on his arm and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Charlie is going to be fine, Alan."

Still looking doubtful, he blinked his eyes several times and then sighed deeply.

"He scared me, Megan. Badly. After last night….you saw him. How can he just 'be fine'?"

"He'll recover from this with the help of his family and friends. Charlie has a great support system."

Alan smiled and allowed her words to give him the relief and comfort he needed.

"So, there should be no problem getting him cleared to take care of Adam?"

Megan shook her head as she moved her hand to rest on Adam's feet.

"The report that I left for Dr. O'Neil states that he is, without a doubt, of sound mind in every way shape and form. He had a shock, Alan, and he reacted accordingly. It was a perfectly normal reaction….for a brilliant mathematician with an exceptionally high IQ. But people recover from trauma like this. They do."

She paused to gently tweak Adam's bare feet and a smile played across her features.

"He can do this Alan, if he wants to. We just need to talk to Charlie about it."

Megan's cell phone chirped and she stood, answering as she walked toward the door.

"Reeves…..

……… Yeah, Colby. I'll be right there."

Glancing at them apologetically, Megan put her phone back on her belt.

"I'm sorry, we've had a…. development at the office. I've got to run. They usually do their first round of discharges around ten, so you should be able to pick Charlie up in a few hours. I'll stop by here and check on him tonight."

"Thank you, Megan. I don't know what I would have done..…"

"That's what friends are for, Alan. I'll see you guys this evening."

Larry stood to walk Megan to the door, leaving Alan alone in the kitchen with Adam.

Looking down at the sleepy baby in his arms, he couldn't help but wonder if this was what was best for Charlie. Choosing to take responsibility for another human being, particularly one who requires regular feedings and diaper changes is not a decision to be made when you are in a state of shock. But Alan knew, if his son had made a promise, he was going to keep it.

An hour and a half later, when Alan arrived at Huntington, he was dismayed to find that Charlie had not gotten up to get dressed. After Megan's report, he'd almost expected to find Charlie standing in the doorway of his room with his discharge papers in hand.

What he found instead was his youngest son sitting up in bed and staring blankly out the window. Half tempted to back out of the room and call Megan to tell her she must have sat in on someone else's evaluation, Alan stepped forward to get a better look at his son. He had lost the unfocused and hollow look that had occupied his eyes the night before, but they still seemed haunted. His hair had been washed and combed out so that the debris from the accident was no longer an apparent reminder of his harrowing experience. He still had an IV line in the back of his right hand and his left cheek had begun to discolor around one of the deeper cuts that marred his face.

"Charlie?"

At first, Charlie didn't respond to his father's voice and a deep fear cut into Alan's heart. But after a moment, Charlie turned his head and looked at him.

"Oh, hi, Dad."

"Charlie? Are you okay?"

Raising one eyebrow, Charlie cocked his head at his father.

"Is that a trick question?"

"I just meant……"

A light smile lifted the corner of Charlie's mouth and Alan felt a surge of relief wash over him.

"I'm okay, Dad. The doctor just hasn't come in yet. They say I can't leave till he examines me and……….."

Charlie hesitated and turned to look out the window again and Alan felt his heart sink.

"Dad, they want me to check myself into the mental health unit for a few days. Naturally, I declined the invitation, so they're sending down another shrink to talk to me again."

"They want you to what?"

Alan turned around and closed the door to the room before walking over to sit down next to his son on the bed.

"Did something else happen, Charlie? Megan said everything went fine."

Charlie shrugged his shoulders, then winced regretting the action.

"It doesn't matter, Dad. I'll tell them what they want to hear and then they will let me go home."

Alan glanced at the door as if to make sure it really was closed before turning back to his son.

"Charlie, what is it that you think these people want to hear and how is that different from what you're really feeling?"

Charlie turned away from the window and stared at his father guardedly.

"It doesn't really matter, Dad."

Alan could see the fatigue in his son's eyes and felt his concern increase.

"Of course it matters, Charlie. What you've been through…it was a horrendous thing to experience. You can't just bottle that up or pretend it away. You have to allow yourself to grieve."

Such a sad smile turned the corners of Charlie's mouth that Alan felt a sharp pang of fear for his son.

"I don't think I can, Dad."

The thought crossed Alan's mind that perhaps a second psych consult wasn't such a bad idea.

"And why is that, Charlie?"

When Charlie answered it was almost a whisper.

"I… I don't really know how."

Charlie closed his eyes for a moment and sighed deeply.

"Let's face it, Dad, this isn't exactly my forte'. I can't afford to get….. lost right now. I have a responsibility, one that I am bound to by my promise. I need to live up to that responsibility. Ethan… He was my friend. In a lot of ways I had become closer to him than…"

Charlie sighed again. He wasn't sure exactly what he had intended to say. He looked back toward the window and out into the overcast sky. The storm had stopped, but the lingering clouds gave a desolate feel to the city as if it too were in mourning.

"He was my friend and I made a promise; a promise that I can't fulfill if I'm in here."

Charlie turned back to his father and for a second, Alan could see though the fog that seemed to cloud his son's eyes.

"I remembered something, too…. last night after Megan left. Becky has a sister."

"Really? Where?"

"I don't know. Ethan mentioned her once. She's married, they're both in the military and on active duty, but other than that I don't know anything about her or her husband except that they... Becky and her sister haven't spoken to each other in years."

A frown creased a deep line in Alan's forehead.

"Why is that?"

"All Ethan said was that they are from different worlds. He didn't get into it. I got the impression that Becky and her sister had a disagreement that would have rivaled the one Don and I..."

At the mention of his brother's name Charlie's eyes became even more sad. He lowered his head and sighed.

"They just didn't communicate well, but I'm certain that Megan can find them. Once they find out what happened, they'll want to come and get Adam and then…….then maybe I can…..stop….and grieve. But not now, Dad."

Alan was about to dispute Charlie's notion as to the process of convenient grieving when there was a light knock at the door to the room. Without waiting for a response, the door was opened and a tall man walked in holding a file folder in one hand and a heavy satchel in the other.

"Good Morning, Mister Eppes. My name is Gerry Severins. I am one of the staff psychologists here at Huntington and I'd like to talk to you about what happened last night. May I sit down?"

Charlie and Alan both turned to look at the new arrival and the expressions they each wore were as different as night and day. Charlie looked indifferent, but shrugged slightly and indicated a chair against the wall near the end of the bed. Alan, however, found the man's arrival alarming and he regarded him with suspicion.

"May I ask why you are here? My son has already relived this experience for your colleague last night."

Mr. Severins set his satchel down on the floor and sat in the chair Charlie had indicated. He opened the file that he held in his hand and glanced down as if rechecking some fact, then he looked up at Alan.

"You must be Charlie's father. I'm just trying to follow up on the review from last evening and need to ask Charlie a few more questions."

Charlie turned and gave this man his full attention, but Alan still didn't understand the purpose of this second interview and he wasn't ready to let this man interrogate Charlie without just cause. Their proposal that Charlie should check himself into the metal health unit was absolutely ludicrous and Alan wanted to know what had instigated that idea. Pulling himself to his feet, he walked to the foot of the bed and stood defensively between his son and Gerry Severins.

"I'm sorry, but what more could you possibly want to ask him? He told the psychologist everything that happened last night. Was there some discrepancy in Charlie's story that you needed clarification on?"

The man seemed to be enthralled in re-reading the contents of the file folder in his hand and Alan stepped forward and glanced over the top of the page. Mr. Severins snapped it closed quickly but not before Alan caught the phrase 'delusions of grandeur'.

"Delusions of grandeur? Are you sure you have the right file?"

There was an open hostility in Alan's voice now and Mr. Severins answered quietly as if he were trying to defuse an irate or irrational patient.

"Mister Eppes, perhaps it would be best if you waited outside while I talk to Charlie."

"How about I stay here and you wait outside?"

Alan crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet firmly on the floor, silently challenging this man to just try and throw him out. Megan certainly hadn't gotten any impressions that Charlie was psychologically impaired and said there was no reason for them to not release him.

"Do I need to call a lawyer or something?"

Staring at his father's back, Charlie found a faint smile spreading across his face.

"I don't think they're going to commit me, Dad."

He turned his eyes to look past his father at the man in the chair.

"I'm sorry, but... why does my chart say that I am having delusions of grandeur?"

Mr. Severins turned to the young man and again took on a tone that seemed reserved for talking to disturbed or potentially dangerous patients.

"Mister Eppes... may I call you Charlie?"

Without waiting for an answer he continued.

"Charlie, you told Doctor Harkins…"

He paused to re-open the file and read directly from its contents.

"...you were a prepubescent high school graduate. You earned your first PhD when you were still a teenager and that you are now a college professor with full tenure. In essence, you told him you were a regular Doogie Howser, IQ and all. Then you told him that you have developed a theory that could feasibly explain the complexities of the human psyche with far more clarity than the practice of psychiatry could ever hope to. Do you remember saying those things?"

Alan stood at the foot of the bed with his mouth opening and closing in pure anger, unable to find the words that he needed to express his outrage. Then from behind him, Charlie began to laugh. He turned in shock to look at his son. Charlie was laughing so hard that he was clutching his side and wincing in pain. It wasn't a hysterical laughter, but for a moment Alan was afraid that he would need to slap Charlie in the face to make him stop before he ripped his stitches out. But Charlie quickly ended his outburst by coughing loudly and then taking a deep breath. Composing his face in a very serious and dignified fashion, Charlie lifted his watery eyes to his alarmed spectators.

"Oh, I'm sorry. That was really...funny. Of course I remember saying those things, why wouldn't I? They told me the concussion was minor, Mr. Severins...or is it Doctor?"

"I am a doctor of psychology, Sir."

His tone was abrupt and professional and Charlie quickly wiped any trace of his amusement from his face and nodded his head at him seriously.

"Good, Good. Then you would be delving into the practice of therapeutic humor? I just wouldn't want you to take my reaction as a sign that it's an effective method of treatment."

Without waiting for a response, Charlie continued.

"To be honest, Doctor, I'm quite surprised by your technique. This kind of therapy is a still a relatively unconventional line of thought in your field. I'm not a psychologist by trade, but as I told your colleague I have spent countless hours researching various theories and ideas on the innermost working of the human mind. And I must say, most psychologists would never have considered a humorous intervention in my case; but I applaud your efforts."

Doctor Severins raised an eyebrow at him and crossed his arms formidably.

"Most people with your condition are highly intelligent individuals, Charlie, who are simply prone to extreme and sometimes dangerous exaggerations. Am I supposed to be impressed?"

Alan had taken a step to the side and was now watching the exchange between his son and the clinical psychologist as if it were a tennis match. Fixing his eyes on Charlie, Alan expected him to be angry. But as he responded to Doctor Severins, Charlie kept his face molded into an earnest and inquisitive stare.

"When you say 'my condition', I'm assuming you mean my _perilous _delusional behavior?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

"Well that's unsupportable pseudo psychology, Doctor. I've been 'highly intelligent' my whole life and I've never been accused of harboring delusions of grandeur. "

"Mister Eppes, you are only providing me with more evidence to support Doctor Harkins theory that you are..."

"Doctor Severins, do you own a laptop?"

The frown lines across the doctor's face deepened and he nodded his head cautiously.

"Yes, I do. As you can see from my bag, I am carrying it with me."

"Google me."

Alan guffawed loudly at Charlie's sudden proposal and Dr. Severins narrowed his eyes, looking confused.

"Excuse me?"

Charlie gave the man a friendly and somewhat sympathetic smile.

"Assuming you have a wireless network, I think you may find this whole thing a little less awkward if you opened that laptop and Googled my name."

Dr. Severins folded his hands in his lap and looked at Charlie in a distinctly condisending manner.

"And just what am I supposed to find akward about this interview?"

Charlie continued to smile at this man knowingly.

"Just humor me."

Dr. Severins watched Charlie for a moment then slowly pulled himself to his feet and grabbed his satchel.

"All right, we'll do this your way. But understand, Charlie, that when I come back in this room I am going to want to have a serious discussion about you voluntarialy admitting yourself for a few days."

When the door closed behind him Alan turned to Charlie shaking his head in disbelief.

"Can you believe that?"

Raising his eyebrows and shrugging slightly, Charlie turned back to stare out the window again. Alan began to pace the floor, mumbling under his breath about the idiot who had conducted the initial evaluation.

In less than five minutes Dr. Severins stepped back into the room looking nothing short of mortified.

"I am terribly sorry, Doctor Eppes."

Charlie turned away from the window and looked at him expectantly.

"I'm afraid my colleague missed the note that Doctor O'Neil left on your chart concerning your... circumstances. He only saw that someone named Reeves would be present for the evaluation and that you might be seeking temporary custody of a small child. He assumed your observer was with social services and well...we take those exams very seriously."

"So I gather."

"Well, do accept my apologies on behalf of my colleague. I think we're done here. I'll speak to the floor Attending right away and see about expediting your discharge."

Charlie nodded his thanks and Dr. Severins turned and walked hastily from the room.

Within a half an hour the attending physician had completed his examination and Charlie found himself alone in the room, while Alan followed the doctor out to the nurses' station to finish up his paperwork. He had assured his father that he was capable of dressing himself, but as he moved to pull the hospital gown off of his shoulders, Charlie was surprised by how stiff and sore his body really was. He had managed to slip into his jeans and get his socks and shoes on when his father knocked lightly on the door.

"Yeah?"

"It's just me, Charlie, are you..."

Alan stopped short in the doorway as he got his first really good look at his son's injuries.

His back looked dreadful with a large angry welt running down the center of it. The laceration on his side was covered in a wide bandage but Alan could see the bruising and inflammation around the injury. Charlie's arms were more cut up than Alan had realized but he had to admit that all of those scrapes were superficial. It was the sheer number of them that made it look worse than it actually was.

"Does it really look that bad?"

Alan met his son's eyes.

"It looks like it hurts."

"It does. Can you help me with the shirt?

Taking care to avoid rubbing the fabric too harshly over Charlie's scrapes, Alan helped him to get a clean shirt on. Then, without farther adieu, Charlie walked from the room, right past the orderly who was waiting for him with a wheelchair, and headed for the exit.

They made the ride home in silence and Charlie found himself marveling at the devastation that was clearly evident all over Pasadena. The windstorm had uprooted trees and knocked down power lines all across the city. They passed a large ranch style home where the garage had been smashed in much the same way that the Burdick's home had been destroyed. When they passed by a dark red car that was flattened by a large tree branch that had fallen, Charlie felt his breath catch in his throat as a flash of Ethan's car blinked behind his eyes and he had to make a conscious effort to keep his breathing slow and steady.

The closer they got to home, the tenser Charlie seemed to become and Alan had to fight the urge to ask him if he was okay again. But once they pulled into the driveway of the craftsman house Charlie was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. Somewhere in the back of his subconscious mind he had been terrified that his own home had been damaged in the storm and much to his surprise the relief he felt at seeing every shingle was still in place was tainted with guilt.

Walking stiffly up the steps Charlie pushed his feelings aside and gave his father a weak smile. He actually felt some of the tension bleed away when he stepped through the threshold into his home. His forced smile turned genuine when he saw Amita sitting on the end of the sofa with a stack of papers in front of her on the coffee table. Next to her, behind a rather ingenious barricade of pillows, lay the sleeping form of Adam Burdick. She gave Charlie a bright smile and pulled herself to her feet, but suddenly faltered; unsure if she should embrace or even approach him. Then Larry stepped in from the kitchen and he too stood there for several seconds trying to decide how much space he needed to give his friend.

Charlie gave them both a subtle nod and maneuvered his aching body into one of the recliner chairs surrounding the round coffee table in front of the television.

Larry was the first to speak.

"How are you feeling, Charles?"

Charlie smiled, but his eyes still held a deep pain that he couldn't seem to mask.

"Like a tree fell on me."

Larry and Amita laughed nervously at this remark, but both seemed to be at a complete loss for words as to what they should say to him. Charlie tried to put an end to their discomfort by changing the subject.

"How is Adam? I…I hope he wasn't too fussy for you. Dad said you both stayed to help out….."

Amita looked at him with concern.

"Adam's fine, Charlie."

As if to refute her statement, Adam began to fuss and cry from behind his pillow barricade and Charlie immediately sat forward to get up. He couldn't help but wince as his sudden movement applied friction between his shirt and the raw skin on his arms and back. Amita beat him to the punch and quickly pulled Adam into her arms.

"Its okay, Charlie. He just needs a clean diaper."

"You don't have to do that Amita, he's my responsibility."

She looked up at him with wounded eyes as Alan stepped forward and put a restraining hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"Yes, Charlie, he is your responsibility. But you've just come home from the hospital. You need rest and your friends are here to help you. Remember, son, you didn't promise to do everything alone."

Charlie looked over at the child who was angrily kicking in Amita's arms. She turned away from him and began to dig though the diaper bag while trying to hold the baby at the same time. Charlie looked up at his father and nodded then turned back to Amita.

"Well, I can at least hold him while you get what you need, okay?"

Alan turned and headed toward the kitchen.

"I'll get a bottle."

"I'll watch."

Larry quickly followed Alan from the room and Amita chuckled at his retreating back.

"He's not one for the diaper change."

A faint smile passed across Charlie's face.

"I guess Larry has had second thoughts about the whole wormhole idea?"

"I think maybe he has."

As soon as Amita handed the baby to Charlie, he grabbed a handful of hair and buried his face in the man's chest. He continued to squirm and fuss, but his angry cries tapered off; at least until Amita took him back to change the diaper.

By the time she fought through the process of changing the furious, hungry infant, Amita gladly handed him back to Charlie. Once again the child's cries calmed noticeably when Charlie held him and Amita looked at him closely with wonder openly displayed on her face.

"You know, Charlie, you really are great with him, and he certainly seems to like you better than anyone else."

Charlie began to respond without considering his answer.

"He's just used to me. I've been spending so much time with…"

His voice trailed off and a veil seemed to come down over his normally expressive eyes.

"He's just used to me."

Amita felt her heart ache for her friend as he struggled to remain calm and composed for the sake of another man's child. When Larry re-emerged from the kitchen with a bottle, Amita took Adam from Charlie's arms. His cries ceased instantly as he began to suck happily on the warm bottle and Amita offered Charlie a smile before she crossed the room to the rocking recliner in the corner.

Alan exited the kitchen with a bottle of water and a handful of prescription bottles they had picked up at the hospital pharmacy. Taking a seat across from his son, he followed Charlie's gaze to where Amita sat in the corner with the baby.

"She looks right doing that."

"What?"

Charlie looked up startled as if he had just realized that his father was there.

"You need to get some rest, Charlie."

He handed him the bottle of water, but as he opened up the first prescription Charlie shook his head resolutely.

"I can't, Dad. I need to find my phone."

Leaning forward in the chair, Charlie sat his water on the coffee table and made a move to pull himself to his feet.

"Charles Edward Eppes, you sit down this minute."

Alan's harsh reprimand stopped his upward momentum. Charlie gently lowered himself back into the chair and cast his father an apprehensive glance.

"You need rest, Charlie. Everything else can wait."

Charlie leaned back in a gesture of frustration, wincing as his back made contact with the chair.

"But I need to talk to Megan about getting legal guardianship of Adam until we find Becky's sister. And Ethan will have things that need to be taken care of and I………I guess I need to do something about a funeral service and……"

"Charlie."

Alan cut him off harshly.

"You don't need to be taking all of this on. It will be handled."

Silence hovered in the room for several seconds and when Charlie spoke his voice was trembling; whether in anger or regret Alan was unsure.

"By who? Ethan didn't have anybody else, Dad. Who is there to handle it, if not me? Do you think that I can't do this? Do you think I'll fold like when Mom..."

Charlie stopped speaking. This was an old wound that did not need to be opened right now. Alan turned to look his son in the face and saw Charlie's jaw was set and his eyes reflected a willful obstinacy that was mixed with an almost pleading look. Charlie needed to do this, he needed to prove to himself that he could, that he would honor his friend's last wishes. With a deep sigh, Alan nodded his head reluctantly.

"Okay, I'll call Megan and find out what we need to do."

Adding some of his previous austerity back into his voice he continued.

"But that's all the more reason for you to get some sleep, Charlie. You're going to have some very tough choices to make."

Charlie nodded and tried to smile at his father.

"I know that. But I made a promise, Dad. And contrary to popular belief, I'm not delusional. I know this isn't going to be a walk in the park. Adam has family out there and when Megan finds Becky's sister, she'll come and get him. But until that happens, I promised I'd take care of him and that's exactly what I intend to do."

Picking up the bottle of prescription pain pills in his lap, Alan opened it and shook two out into his hand.

"And right now, Amita is taking care of him, so take this and get some sleep."

Charlie turned his eyes to the corner of the room where Amita sat, gently rocking Adam as he finished his bottle. Looking back toward his father, Charlie put his hand out obediently for the pills.

………………………………

When nausea and the return of his persistent low grade headache pulled Charlie from his drug induced slumber, he was alarmed to find the house dark and quiet. Fighting off the queasiness bestowed on him by the concussion, Charlie resisted the urge to bolt for the bathroom.

"You okay there, Charlie?"

The sudden presence of another person caught Charlie off guard and set his heart racing as the familiar form of Megan Reeves emerged from the shadows of the dining room.

"You look a little green."

"Megan."

Charlie made an attempt to sit up a little straighter and cringed at the painful ramifications of movement.

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long."

Megan moved across the living room in an easy stride.

"You're father said you'd probably be awake soon. Are you feeling ill?"

"A little."

He quickly dismissed the question as his eyes swept the unlit room.

"Where's ………"

"Adam? Larry and Alan took him. They went out for dinner and Amita went home. I volunteered to stay with you. Charlie, if you're not feeling up to it then we can………….."

"No. I'd rather get it over with."

"Okay. I've got the paperwork on the dining room table."

As Charlie pulled himself to his feet, Megan looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

"Your Dad told me about what happened this morning."

To her surprise, a weak smile spread over the mathematicians face and he nodded subtly.

"Delusions of Grandeur."

"Yeah, that's what he said. I'm glad to see you still find it funny. I'd have given anything to see that doctor's face when he realized what an ass he'd made out of himself."

As Charlie made his way painfully across the room, he waited for Megan to ask him how he was dealing with the previous nights events, but instead she moved quickly to another subject.

"Well, Colby found Becky's sister."

"Good."

"Don't speak to soon, Charlie."

"What do you mean?"

"Her name is Kristen Miller. She and her husband Ronald are both career Marines. Special Ops. Their station is classified, but Colby's got a friend in the pentagon and he……… Charlie? Are you all right?"

Charlie had stopped at the entryway to the dining room and was staring at the mountain of papers on the table. The stack was more daunting than all of his student's final exams combined and he suddenly felt an onslaught of panic.

"That's a lot of paper."

"Well, your father said you intended to take over everything, I figured it would be easier if you just have their mail sent here too. But that's a federal application and if there's anything those feds love, it's paperwork. Then there's all the paperwork to get temporary custody of Adam."

Smiling at her self deprecating comment, Charlie pulled out the chair at the head of the table and lowered himself into it.

"I hate filling out forms. Don was always the guy that could fill out the paperwork. He helped mom filled out most of my college applications because he could write so small. I wish………."

Megan bowed her head for a moment then moved around the table and pulled out the chair next to Charlie.

"If I could just pick up the phone and call him, Charlie, you know I would. Hell, I'd drive down there and pick him up myself if they'd let me. And when Don gets state side he's probably gonna rip me a new one for not finding a way to let him know what was going on. But trying to contact your brother right now………"

She stopped short, but Charlie completed her thought.

"Could put his life in danger. Yeah, I know that. I just could use him right about now."

Picking up a pen that had been left on the table next to the first stack of papers, Charlie poised himself to begin. Sitting down next to him, Megan reached over and put her hand over his, taking the pen from his grasp.

"Just because Don isn't here, doesn't mean you have to do all this alone, Charlie."

"Thanks, Megan, but I don't really need someone to hold my hand while I fill out……."

She didn't let him finish.

"Do you trust me, Charlie?"

Charlie lifted his eyes and met her earnest gaze.

"Don trusts you. I'm pretty sure Larry trusts you. So why shouldn't I?"

"Listen, Charlie, all we really need is your John Hancock on each of these forms. There's nothing in the rules that says you have to fill the whole thing out by yourself. You sign it…I've got a friend who will notarize it after I fill out the rest, okay?"

With a deep sigh, Charlie leaned his head against the back of the chair.

"You don't have to…………"

"I know. But I want to help, Charlie."

Handing him back the pen, Megan opened the first folder of papers.

"Initial at the bottom of each page and sign the last one. They're all like that. Believe me, if we at the FBI know how to do one thing _very _well, its paperwork."

**TBC**


	9. Not All Tears Are an Evil

**Chapter Nine: Not All Tears Are an Evil**

"Google me?"

Alan smiled and shook his head solemnly.  
"Well, you know your brother."

"I thought I did. I just didn't expect……"

Raising his eyebrows slightly, Alan finished the thought.  
"…him to recover so quickly?"

"Yeah."

Thumbing the handle of his empty coffee cup, Don tried to envision the daunting task of filling out custodial paperwork in a situation like the one his brother had faced. Frankly, he couldn't imagine getting through it with his sanity intact. Feeling a surge of gratitude toward Megan, Don found his anger at her ebbing. Quickly reminding himself that her invaluable assistance didn't change the fact that someone owed him some answers, Don turned his thoughts back to Charlie; keeping his anger and frustration at his team brewing just below the surface. It seemed his brother really was made of tougher stuff than he had ever realized. Why had he never seen this strong and resilient streak that resided at Charlie's core? People don't change overnight; he must have just missed it somehow. Perhaps it had always been there. He shook his head with a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

"What is it that you find so amusing?"

Don looked up at his father feeling almost as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and he quickly wiped the smile off his face.

"Honestly, Dad, I don't think 'amusing' is the appropriate word. This is…..something else entirely."

Setting his coffee cup down, Don leaned forward with his elbows on the table.

"I just find it peculiar that Charlie has never shown me this side of himself before. I guess I always thought he was……. Well, I was just thinking that maybe I don't really _know_ my own brother. The way you were talking, I just figured... I thought he really _had _suffered from a total psychological meltdown and here you are, telling me how determined he was to take on the challenge of instant parenthood. It sounds like Charlie was able to put aside his feelings and do what had to be done. I guess I just didn't know he was capable of that."

From the instant frown that adorned his father's features, Don knew he had said the wrong thing. Rising from the table in silence, Alan moved to the counter and pulled out the coffee pot to dump the dregs and make a fresh pot. As he pulled out the filter and tossed it in the garbage Don could sense the sudden increase of tension in the room. He knew his father had something to say, but was hesitating... And that probably meant that whatever he had to say, he was trying to find a way to word it that wouldn't set off an argument. Alan reached into the cupboard above the coffee maker and pulled out a new filter and the can of Folgers. Without turning away from his task he began to speak in a slow appeasing tone.

"Donnie, you may find your brother's newfound talent for burying his emotions quite admirable. But he's not like you and for him it wasn't as simple as that. The cost for him was far greater than it's ever been for you."

Alan turned on the faucet to fill the coffee pot with water, keeping his back to his son as he continued; not giving Don a chance to interrupt.

"He refused to grieve for his loss out of fear...fear of where that grief could take him. And instead of getting it out of his system and letting it go, he just held it in."

"It's a common survival mechanism, Dad. They actually teach you to compartmentalize your emotions at Quantico. It's a twelve week training course and yes, I'm _very _impressed that Charlie has learned to do it without that kind of guidance. If it helps him cope, then it's a good thing."

Alan sighed heavily as he put on the new pot of coffee to brew and turned to face his son.  
"No, Donnie, that isn't a good thing. You may have been trained by the government to ignore your heart, but that is never a _good_ thing."

Even knowing that Alan had not intended to initiate a fight, Don couldn't help but immediately defend the preparation and instruction that he had been required to complete before he could become a federal agent.

"You really don't know what you're talking about, Dad! That ability, that training is what kept me alive over the last three months. If I'd allowed myself to analyze and dwell on everything that I had to face, I'd be stark raving mad! Do you really think for one minute…….."

The elevated volume of Don's voice prompted Alan to interrupt his tirade.  
"Sshhhhh. Donnie, you're going to wake your brother. He was up all night."

Without missing a beat, Don lowered his voice and continued.  
"Considering that fact that Charlie can categorize massive amounts of _numerical _data in his head and split it into more manageable segments doesn't bother you, then why should his ability to do the same thing with emotions be such a problem? I'm already well aware of what you think of me and how 'the government' has desensitized me and warped my senses. But if that's how Charlie was able to deal with what happened…..with what he saw happen, then I think it's great. And I'm sorry that you disagree."

The defensive look on Don's face, along with his stiff and unyielding posture had been more than enough to warn Alan that they were about to parade right into the oldest and fiercest argument that had ever come between them. It was a fight that neither one would ever win and now was not the time or place to resurrect that disagreement. Putting his hands up in surrender, Alan stepped around the counter and took a seat at the table.

"I don't think we need to argue the point about your FBI training, Donald. You and I will never agree on that, so let's leave it alone. All that I am trying to explain is that Charlie is not you. He doesn't have the training and he didn't know the price of ignoring his emotions. He didn't get over this as quickly as you may think. Not allowing yourself an outlet for grief, for fear, for anger…..not letting the pain express itself is self destructive for anyone, including FBI agents."

Don opened his mouth to re-defend his position, but Alan continued before he got the chance.

"For someone like your brother, who is accustomed to opening up about things that bother him, it's more than just self destructive. He suppressed his feelings about what happened to Ethan and his family, but it was attempting to control his fear and concern for you that seemed to take the most out of him."

At these words, Don found himself calling on the same training that had gotten him through some of the roughest patches of psychological and emotional trauma that he had ever faced. Not only did he have the guilt stick in hand, beating him over the head; but his father had just called him Donald. He hadn't done that since the day he tried to talk him out of enrolling at Quantico.

"Dad….."

Don paused to clear his throat.  
"I can't fight with you about this. Not now. I think I can understand what you're saying about Charlie without completely agreeing with your opinion. Is that enough?"

Reaching for his son's abandoned cup, Alan stood and headed for the freshly brewed pot of coffee.

"It'll have to be, won't it? I don't want to fight with you, Donnie. I haven't seen you in three months….the last thing I want to do is chase you out of the house because I still disagree with you from time to time."

Don smiled ruefully at his father as he filled both cups and moved back to the table.  
"Okay. If we can reinstate the truce, I'd like to know what Charlie did to make you believe that he'd made a mistake with his method of coping."

Alan answered with a nod and a smile and Don continued.  
"You said that they found Becky's sister. So why haven't she and her husband come to get Adam? Surely is doesn't take the United States Marine Corp a month to notify someone of the death of a family member."

Alan pushed the sugar bowl across the table toward his son.  
"No, not under normal circumstances……..but I'm afraid nothing else got any less complicated when it came to Adam. And as far as your brother was concerned; he spent every waking moment attempting to control his emotions. So, naturally, they found a new way to manifest themselves."

……………………………… 

**26 Days Ago  
****………………………………...**

From where Charlie was standing on the hill, he could see the large villa style estate in the valley below him. The grounds were beautiful; immaculately well kept with hints of European design throughout the numerous flower gardens.

Without intending to, Charlie found himself walking among the flowers, but only glancing at the stunning displays of color from the clusters of blooms. His eyes were instead focused on a solid cinderblock wall that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the garden. As the rose bushes and ivy parted around him so he could move closer to the wall, a deep masculine voice called out a single word.

"READY"

Still moving forward, intrigued but not yet frightened, Charlie strained to see through the remaining brush that blocked the bottom of the wall from his view. Despite the rays of sun that were warming his face and hands, Charlie felt a deep chill that began in the center of his being and radiated outwards. A massive row of rose bushes, covered in bright red blossoms had suddenly parted, giving him a perfect view of the cinderblock wall in its entirety. Time stood still as Charlie's focus zeroed in on the lone figure standing in the center of the concrete partition.

Even with the red blindfold that covered the man's eyes, Charlie recognized his brother. And just as quickly, he realized the purpose of the wall as a second word echoed through the garden.

"AIM"

His feet began to move before he ordered them to do so and Charlie quickly picked up an unnatural speed as he rushed through the garden toward Don. He was less than twenty feet away when the rose bushes closed in around him, blocking his path and snagging at the suddenly bare flesh on his chest and arms. The massive thorns ripped through his skin and Charlie cried out in pain and helplessness. As the figure in front of the wall lifted his head as if in answer to his cry, a third word reverberated through the air, cutting through Charlie's soul just as surely as the knife-like thorns tore through his flesh.

"FIRE"

"NO! DON!"

Helplessly entangled in the ever expanding rose bush, Charlie watched in horror as bullet after bullet tore through his brother's chest. Don's body slammed into the cinderblocks and a bright crimson smear followed him as he slid down the wall into loose dirt that covered the dry ground. The sound of the rifles firing echoed through the valley and Charlie swore he felt his heart stop…as if it had no reason to continue beating.

The vines and branches that had held him captive while Don was gunned down suddenly vanished and he found himself standing in front of the wall, looking down at his brother's body as his life's blood ran in rivulets across the dusty earth. Dropping to his knees, Charlie's vision blurred as he heard a disconsolate wail emanate from somewhere close by.

As he blinked back the hot tears addling his sight, he looked down at the lifeless eyes of Ethan Burdick staring up at him. The wailing became more insistent when his friend spoke.

"Take care of my son."

Charlie opened his eyes and blinked rapidly, confused for a moment. There were tears running down the side of his face and pooling in his ears. A small hand grabbed a handful of hair and yanked it hard, bringing him fully awake. He had fallen asleep feeding the baby and the empty bottle had slipped between him and the mattress, while Adam was nestled securely in the crook of his arm. The baby let out another wail to emphasize his discontent as he continued to squirm and pull at Charlie's shirt. Sitting up in bed, Charlie took a deep breath in an attempt to dismiss the remnants of his nightmare and he lifted Adam up to his shoulder.

The door to his room opened and light from the hallway spilled in, shining on his face and causing him to close his eyes against the glare. As Charlie blinked against the light, the last of his unshed tears fell and Alan came quickly to the bed and took the baby from his arms.

"Charlie? Are you all right?"

"Dad? What time is it?"

Alan sat down next to his son and looked intently into his face.  
"Bad dreams?"

Suddenly embarrassed by the tears that stained his cheeks, Charlie wiped them off and turned his head away from his father. Climbing from bed, Charlie walked around to the other side and retrieved the still fussing baby.

"He's hungry and needs a diaper change. I'll take care of it."

Charlie looked over at the clock on his bedside table. It was only six in the morning.  
"Sorry if he woke you."

As Charlie scooped up the diaper bag from where he had left it on the floor at the foot of the bed, Alan stood and turned to face him.

"You don't have to apologize every time Adam makes a noise, Charlie. Babies cry, and sometimes they cry at six o'clock in the morning. Besides, I was already up."

Watching his son as he laid the baby down on the bed and began to change him, Alan didn't miss the melancholy way that Charlie furrowed his brow and he debated whether or not to say something to him. Alan opened his mouth only to close it again quickly. He didn't want to push; so he sat down again on the edge of the bed and remained quiet for a moment while Charlie went about the task of removing the soiled diaper, but it didn't take long for Alan to give in to the silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Charlie shook his head without a verbal response and tried to keep his focus on the task at hand, but the images from his dream where still vivid in his minds eye. Heaving a sigh, Charlie lifted his eyes to his father's concerned face.

"It was just a dream, Dad. That's all."

It sounded as if Charlie was trying to convince himself of that as he continued speaking. He told his father about the dream while he worked with the baby and as he relayed the details of Don's 'execution' his voice cracked and he had to stop speaking. Fighting to contain the emotions that seemed ready to spill out of him was become harder and harder with each passing moment and Charlie wondered how much longer he could contain the pain that seemed to be gnawing away at his heart. Reminding himself that Adam needed him to stay strong and focused, he continued, finishing the story. As he fastened the clean romper around the baby's pudgy thighs, he glanced at his father with an almost pleading look on his face.

"Why am I dreaming this stuff?"

"You can't decide what you dream, Charlie."

"I know, but...why did Don turn into Ethan? What if he's...what if...I don't think I could deal with…"

Charlie realized what he was about to say and stopped. He sighed deeply and forced his mind to dispel the images that plagued his thoughts.  
"Today isn't a very good day for this. I guess it's just stress, huh?"

Without waiting for his father to respond, Charlie picked up the baby and headed into the hall. Following close behind, Alan trailed Charlie down the stairs.

"I don't know why you would find it so surprising that you're having dreams like this, Charlie. It's been four days and you haven't taken the time to..."

"Dad, don't."

The two word warning stopped Alan at the foot of the stairs and he watched his son's back as he crossed the floor and entered the kitchen. Torn between giving Charlie the space _he_ thought he needed and the counsel Alan _knew_ the young man needed, he pursued him though the door.

"I think I've earned the right to worry about you, Charlie."

Standing in front of the stove, Charlie didn't turn around to face him and Alan continued.

"You suffered a trauma, and not just emotionally. And since you've been home you've done nothing but care for Adam, talk to lawyers and...and social service counselors…. You've had Ethan and Becky's records and mail all sent here so it wouldn't be sitting in some dump box at the post office and you've been dealing with that. You've answered all your student's emails with questions about their finals and I'm pretty sure that if Amita hadn't already arranged for someone to give your finals, you would have done that too. On top of making all the arrangements for this funeral and the reception afterwards, you decided to give the eulogy. You have hardly eaten or slept in four days..."

Charlie whirled around to face his father then looked down at the baby in his arms. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Alan cut him off.

"...I know you've been busy with the baby, but you're exhausted, Charlie. This kind of situation is bound to cause some subconscious emotional effects. Over the past couple of months Ethan became more than just another friend to you and with Don gone…"

"Stop it!"

Charlie's outburst made Alan jump and the sharp tone of his voice startled the baby.  
"Don't say that, don't ever say that. I'm not… I wasn't… I did just fine without his continual presence for the first thirty years of my life, Dad. I didn't need someone to replace...I...I..."

Adam began to cry in response to Charlie's angry ranting and he paused to lift the baby up to his chest. He flitted his eyes at his father and turned back to the bottle he had been preparing.

"People aren't replaceable, Dad. You should know that."

The room remained silent except for the intermittent sobs of the infant and the soothing sounds that Charlie made as he tried to get him to stop crying. Alan moved to the counter and began to prepare a small bowel of infant cereal. He waited until Charlie had moved to the table and was feeding Adam his bottle before he spoke again, his voice almost a whisper.

"I wasn't suggesting that you were trying to replace your brother, Charlie."

Alan waited until Charlie lifted his head to look at him before he continued.  
"I was only pointing out that his absence has been hard on you….on both of us. Ethan helped fill that space for you and there is nothing wrong with that."

Charlie looked away from his father. A strong feeling rose in his chest and he wrestled it back under control as his father continued speaking.

"Your friendship with Ethan was in no way a betrayal of your love for Don. He's your brother, and nothing will ever change that. But today you are going to bury one of your closest friends and there is nothing wrong with mourning that loss and expressing your sorrow. That's all I was trying to say."

Nodding his head in resignation, Charlie kept his eyes on the top of the table. He knew his father was right, but he also knew that if he didn't keep his emotions under some semblance of control now, he would never make it through this day. He wondered how Don could manage it so easily. His brother was always in control of how he expressed his emotions.

"God, I miss him so much, especially today"

Charlie didn't realize that he had spoken aloud until his father answered his whispered plea.

"I know, Charlie. I miss him too."

The cloud of discord lifted and breakfast continued in a placid silence. Once Adam finished the bottle, Charlie put him up on his shoulder to burp and Alan pushed the bowl of cereal in front of them.

"Here, I thought we'd try him on the rice cereal today."

Adam belched loudly as if in response and Charlie turned the child around, sitting him on his knee. Alan headed out to retrieve the morning paper, giving Charlie's shoulder a reassuring squeeze on his way past.

As Charlie began spooning the cereal into Adam's mouth, he found himself wishing they had been able to get the highchair from the house. There were so many things that one really needed to take care of a baby. David had looked into getting them back into the house to collect some of Adam's things, but the place had been condemned when the back portion began to collapse the day after the storm. The agent had intended to pull rank and go in anyway, but Charlie told him a highchair and a few familiar toys weren't worth him risking his life.

As the muscles in his lower back protested the position he was required to maintain while feeding the baby this way, Charlie was starting to reconsider that notion. Deciding to buy a high chair after the funeral and send it along with Adam when the Millers came to get him, Charlie's thoughts turned to the day ahead of him.

He would find the strength to get through the service and the eulogy. He had to. He and baby Adam, along with his father, would be the only people representing the Burdick family. There was no one else. That somehow made the impending event loom threateningly over him and the sadness of it all reminded Charlie of Jonas Hoag's memorial service where he and Larry were the only attendees. He couldn't help but remember the conversation they had that day in the chapel.

"_A rather disheartening turnout isn't it?" _

Charlie looked around feeling a little awkward.  
"Are we early?"

"_Oh, I don't think so.  
It's physics… such a demanding field, it leaves little time or energy for a social life." _

Larry's comment brought to mind something that Charlie had read years ago.  
"Einstein said that one has either time for science or for family; but not both."

"_Well, now that's spoken like a man who can appreciate our predicament." _

Charlie looked up at the still form of Jonas Hoag lying in his coffin and questioned Einstein's logic.  
"I wonder though, is our work the actual cause? Or is it an excuse?"

"_That's a fair hypothesis isn't it? I suppose the real trick is in finding the solution while it still matters." _

As that conversation floated in the back of his mind Charlie couldn't help but draw some depressing parallels. But Ethan _had _made time for a family; he _had _friends….although not many. Still, at his own funeral, the only family who would be there was a six month old baby being cared for by a colleague.

Charlie had watched, helpless, as the pressure of balancing a family and work had beat his friend down. But he had done it. And now, in the end, who was going to be there to mourn him? Becky had quite a few friends who would come, as well as Emily's teachers and many of her classmates. But who would mourn Ethan? Don's team at the FBI? They were helping out and acting as pall bearers, but David was the only one who actually knew Ethan and Becky and that had been from the perspective of an investigator. Several of Ethan's co-workers had made a point of contacting Charlie to express their condolences, but only a few planned to attend the service. Larry and Amita would be there, but that was more a gesture on _his _behalf than Ethan's. How had a man who had accomplished what Einstein said couldn't be done, end up so alone?

"Who will mourn me when I die?"

Charlie was pulled from his morose thoughts when, from behind him, Alan spoke in a quiet and concerned voice.  
"Your family will, Charlie."

Charlie had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he had failed to hear his father come back in.  
"I'm sorry, Dad. I was just thinking about Jonas Hoag and Ethan."

Alan's brow creased in confusion and he circled the table, taking a seat across from his son.  
"Who is Jonas Hoag?"

"He was a physicist who died a few years ago. Larry and I were the only ones to turn up at his memorial service and today… Dad, do you realize that Ethan has no one? There's no family to mourn him. His parents are dead, he never had any siblings. Becky had friends who will be there. Her sister won't be there, but I'm sure she would if she could. And Emily…..well, I doubt there was anyone that she came into contact with that won't be there to mourn her passing. But Ethan….he has no one."

"He has you, Charlie. He has Adam, and he has me. Ethan may not be a blood relative, but to you, he's family. Family is what you make it, Charlie. It's not of the body, it's of the heart."

With a forlorn smile, Charlie looked down at the baby sitting on his lap. Adam had decided that he would much rather play with the spoon than eat and the last bite of cereal that had gotten into his mouth was now running down his chin. Shaking his head at the spectacle, Charlie picked up the kitchen towel from the table top and began to wipe Adam up.

"Well, Adam, you've really got to work on this whole solid food business. That would make things easier for all of us."

With a low chuckle, Alan pulled himself to his feet.  
"What would you like for breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry."  
Charlie's answer was reactive, spoken without time for consideration, and Alan frowned at him.

"I didn't ask if you were hungry."

"Dad….."

"Now, Charlie, if you plan on getting through this day, you have to eat something."

Pulling himself to his feet, Charlie arched his back and stretched while holding the baby under his arm. He knew his father was right, but it all boiled down to Adam. The house was nowhere near baby proofed and there was nowhere to put the baby where he would be safe now that he was crawling around. Adding a play pen of some sort to the shopping list in his head, Charlie shrugged his shoulders in silent response. As if reading his mind, Alan stood and took the child from his arms.

"Go shower and get dressed. I'll take him and make you some breakfast."

Charlie watched his father as he went to the counter to pour himself another cup of coffee. Then Alan shifted the baby onto his left hip and proceeded to take the carton of eggs out of the refrigerator and put them on the counter next to the sink. Charlie had intended to ask his father how he planned on making breakfast while holding a baby, but as he watched him move through the kitchen with practiced ease his question was answered.

Alan noticed Charlie watching him out of the corner of his eye and couldn't help but feel pleased that he could still impress his grown son.  
"It's like riding a bicycle, Charlie. Go….we'll be fine."

**………………………………...**

A half an hour later, when Charlie stepped back into the kitchen, he was surprised to see Megan. She was seated at the table, cradling Adam in her arms in a classic rock-a-by fashion and cooing at him. Adam was staring up at her face, his eyes wide, with one hand grasping her ponytail tightly. Charlie didn't think he could have ever imagined Megan like this and he wondered what Larry would make of this side of her. When she looked up and saw Charlie, she smiled warmly.

"Hey, Charlie. How ya holding up?"

With a nod, Charlie made his way to the table.  
"I'm okay. What are you doing here so early?"

Picking an envelope up from the table, Megan handed it to him.  
"These papers make you Adam's emergency custodial guardian. David and Colby found the fireman who witnessed Ethan's last request and he signed an affidavit attesting to what he heard. Robin and my friend from Social Services really pulled this together for you, I'm just the messenger."

Alan put the cup of coffee that he had poured for Megan down on the table in front of her. Raising one eyebrow, he looked doubtfully at the agent.

"Someone from Social Services did this?"

Megan smiled at Alan, resisting the urge to ask him what the office of Social Services had done to warrant such distain.  
"Yes, actually. Not all of them are nameless, faceless, uncaring bureaucrats."

Alan snorted in disbelief.  
"Well, whatever their motive, tell your friend we said thank you. What have you found out about…..ah….the Millers?"

Megan nodded to confirm the name.  
"Ronald and Kristen. I made a request though official channels, but I haven't heard anything back yet. The US Government does tend to operate at its own speed….."

This was accompanied by another knowing snort from the elder Eppes and Megan laughed at his reaction.  
"….And…..you didn't let me finish, Alan."

With a playful scolding glare in Alan's direction, she continued.  
"…And, _that _is why Colby is looking into it though less traditional means."

Charlie was looking over the papers that Megan had handed him, when he suddenly shot up out of his chair.  
"Hey, I just remembered. I got a certified letter for Becky yesterday. I think it was from the Department of Defense. Just a sec…"

Charlie left through the swinging door that led to the dining room and came back a moment later with an official looking letter addressed to Rebecca Burdick.  
"I didn't even think about it, Megan. The guy didn't seem to care who signed for it, so I just assumed that it………."

Charlie had torn open the envelope and scanned the page while he was talking, but something caught his eye and he stopped speaking and focused on the page. Tilting his head slightly, as if he didn't quite grasp what he was looking at, Charlie's eyes darted back up to the top of the page as he re-read its contents.

Megan and Alan watched as Charlie's face went white and the paper dropped from his hands to the table. Snatching up the page, Megan began to read as Alan stepped over to his son. Charlie sank bonelessly down into the chair and Alan could see a tremor run though the young man's body.

"What is it Megan? Charlie? What's happened?"

Megan began to read the letter aloud as Charlie gripped the edge of the table.  
"Dear Mrs. Burdick… We regret to inform you that your sister, First Sergeant Kristen D Miller and her husband, Sergeant Major Ronald J Miller have become engaged in a hostage situation in hostile territory. The circumstances under which they were taken prisoner are DOD classified, but I can assure you that both your sister and brother-in-law are believed to be alive and that military forces are working diligently and tirelessly in the effort to secure their release……"

Megan stopped reading.  
"The rest is just a basic condolence letter."

Alan stood behind Charlie with his hands on his shoulders.  
"I thought they sent people to deliver information like that. You know, the war department….a priest, a medic and some high ranking officer?"

"Only for POW's or MIA's…..and of course 'killed in the line of duty', but this is just a simple courtesy letter and………"

Megan's cut off her answer when she turned to Charlie. His eyes were wide and for a moment it looked like he was holding his breath, then as he tried to exhale, he inhaled again. As Charlie's breathing started coming in short, ragged gasps, Megan bolted to her feet and circled the table. Holding the baby with one arm, she put her hand on the back of Charlie's neck, directing him to lower his head and Alan immediately knelt down next to his son.

"Breathe, Charlie. Come on, now. You need to breathe."

So many thoughts simultaneously bombarded Charlie's mind that he felt dizzy with them. How could so many bad things happen all at once? How could the universe target and be so cruel to one family? What would have happened to the fragile strength of his friends if they were alive and had gotten this news on top of everything that they were going through? What's going to happen to Adam?

Pushing his chair away from the table, Charlie bent over all the way and put his head between his knees as he fought to control his breathing.  
"Oh, God."

The weight of his promise to Ethan seemed to increase ten fold and it felt like it was crushing him; making it even harder to breathe. He really _was_ the only one who was here for this child. As if on cue Adam began to fuss in Megan's arms and started reaching for Charlie.

"I can't do this, Megan. I… What am I…? Oh my God."

Adam started squirming in her grasp and Charlie automatically sat up, reached out and pulled the baby out of her arms. He didn't even seem to notice that he had taken the baby when he stood and began to pace the floor. He picked up the letter again and looked it over, then dropped it back on the table and picked up the guardianship papers. Again, his face paled and Megan bolted toward him, almost knocking over the chair that stood in her way. Afraid that he might actually faint, she put her hands on Charlie's shoulders and steered him back to the table.

"Charlie, you need to sit back down. I'll get somebody on this, okay? We'll find out what's being done to get them out."

Charlie did as instructed and sat down. He seemed to notice then that he was holding Adam and turned the child so that he was looking into his face. The baby squealed with delight at the direct attention from Charlie and reached out to grab a handful of curly hair. As Adam began to babble in his usual fashion, Charlie took a deep breath and looked at Megan. But Adam's next string of vocalizations turned his attention back to the baby.

"Lee lee lee lee"

Megan leaned forward and glanced from Charlie to Alan and then back to the baby.  
"Charlie, I think he's trying to say your name. It sounds like he's trying to say Charlie."

At the sound of Charlie's name, Adam pulled the handful of the hair he had tangled in his fist and yelled, "Lee lee lee!"

Megan laughed at his expression of glee and Adam tilted his head to look up at her. Acknowledging his audience's delight in his new syllable, Adam continued to repeat the vocalization.

The oppressive weight that Charlie was feeling lightened just a little and he spoke directly to the baby.  
"Well, Adam, it seems that you and 'Lee lee' are going to be together for a little while longer."

**……………………………...**

The day passed by in small spurts for Charlie. At one point, before they left for the funeral, Amita had shown up with a portable crib and he was able to check that item off of his mental shopping list. It was essentially a small playpen with extra padding on the bottom, with the words Co-Sleeper embroidered on one side of the soft padded material that covered the rails. When they returned to the house after the burial service, she had helped him set up the co-sleeper in the solarium. After putting Adam down for a nap, Charlie quietly closed the door to the room and reluctantly went to greet his guests.

As he meandered through the room, observing the twenty or so people who had come by the house to eat and pay their respects, Charlie let his thoughts wonder back through the day's proceedings.

On the ride to the funeral home it seemed that the sun was playing a enthusiastic game of hide and seek, darting in and out of the gray clouds that worked their zenith across the sky. The day that he had had spent in the park with Emily and Adam rose up in his mind and Charlie could clearly hear Emily's angelic voice singing.

'_Oh Mr. Sun, Sun Mr. Golden Sun  
Please shine down on me.  
Oh Mr. Sun, Sun Mr. Golden Sun  
Hidin' behind a tree,  
These little children are asking you…  
To please come out so we can play with you.  
Oh Mr. Sun, Sun Mr. Golden Sun  
Please shine down on me.' _

That tune played in his head just as clearly as if the radio were on and its sweet and happy tone was a sharp contrast to the view outside of the car window. The destruction from the storm, which had taken at least three lives, was still evident in many places. Trees had gone down all over Pasadena and crews were still working furiously to clean up the mess. This was one of the worst storms that southern California had seen in a number of years and many homes were still without power. But the city was struggling to overcome the destruction of mother nature and there were also signs of triumph to be seen. Charlie unconsciously counted the numerous extension chords he saw rigged up from house to house, as those who still had power shared their good fortune with those who did not.

They drove through several intersections where the signals were out of order, and the drivers on the main road brought traffic to a standstill, treating it as a four way stop to allow their car to cross safely. Considering the behavior of Californians in blackout events of the past, Charlie found himself impressed by these displays of patience and kindness.

When his thoughts were interrupted by a short stout woman asking where the bathroom was, Charlie graciously pointed her in the right direction then moved off to the dining room. He had asked Donna to cater the wake, and she had covered the large table with trays of delectable looking hors d'oeuvres. Although he had no real interest in food, Charlie had started to feel a little light headed and his father's words from breakfast echoed in his mind. Deciding that there wasn't much point in passing out in the middle of a room full of people, he picked up a plate and stared at his choices.

As Donna stepped through the door from the kitchen, she took one look at his pale face and gave Charlie a gentle smile.

"There are reasons why comfort foods are loaded with carbs. Try a cinnamon roll. That should help."

Wondering how his father had ever managed to let this woman slip through his fingers, Charlie returned her smile and silently followed her suggestion.

The sound of different conversations all going on at once normally would have irritated him, but today they all seemed oddly separate and distinguishable. Martin Ball, the CEO of Visual Horizions, stood speaking to one of Ethan's co-workers. Charlie had done many freelance jobs for Visual Horizions in the past, and theirs was one of the gigs he had passed on to Ethan; as a matter of fact it was the project that Ethan had been working on when he died. The man wasn't speaking loudly, but Charlie could hear every word he said.

"Doctor Eppes spoke so highly of Ethan Burdick's skill and dedication to his career. After that kind of endorsement, it's a real shame we won't be able to work with him again."

The fact that Mr. Ball had incorrectly interpreted Charlie's description of Ethan during his eulogy touched a nerve, and he turned away; not wishing to engage the man in any conversation. Charlie had tried to point out that Ethan's skills and dedication were second only to his commitment to his family. Writing and giving that heartfelt tribute was one of the most difficult things Charlie had ever taken upon himself to accomplish, and it upset him that the man didn't even have the decency to remember it with some sense of acumen. Heading back into the living room, the memory of his words floated to the surface of his mind.

'_Ethan Burdick was one of the most gifted mathematicians I have ever had the privilege of working with. He saw beyond the realms of conventional mathematics and spent his career striving to solve the unsolvable. His zeal and dedication to his career was rivaled only by his love for his children and from my perspective, Ethan solved the biggest of all the unsolvable Millennium problems. He found a way to balance his passion for the work with his passion for his family. Einstein once said, 'One has either time for science or for family, but not both'. Ethan was a brilliant mathematician, a dedicated father and my good friend. He proved Einstein wrong. How many men came make such a claim?'_

As Charlie entered the room, Alan tried to meet his son's eyes; but he seemed focused on something else as he made his way to corner and leaned against the wall as if he were trying to blend into the background. Watching the mixed look of annoyance and distress that clouded his features, Alan made his way across the floor. Stepping up beside him, Alan placed a calming hand on Charlie's shoulder.  
"I thought it was a very good service."

"Yeah."

"The music was nice."

"Yeah."

Deciding that one word answers were the best he was going to get from his son, Alan gave Charlie's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.  
"You did a good thing here, son. Ethan and Becky would be proud; I know I am."

Biting the inside of his cheek in an effort to maintain his composure, Charlie was about to respond to his father; but his attention was drawn to the voice of a tall blonde woman whom he knew to be a friend of Becky's. She stood a few feet away, with her back to him, speaking to one of Emily's nurses from the cancer center.

"What he said about Becky…..that was so true. I honestly don't know how she handled everything that was going on with Emily…..then with the new baby and all of the stresses that go along with that…..well, she was certainly stronger than I ever could have been."

Charlie's mind wandered back to the service and his words about Becky. He had struggled with what he wanted to say about her. Becky was such a non-imposing person, but she held at her core a strength that was unimaginable. He didn't think he had done her justice at the time but hearing this comment made him wonder if his words hadn't actually reached the truth about the woman that Rebecca Burdick was.

'_Ethan didn't accomplish this monumental task alone. Becky Burdick stood by her husband through circumstances that would cause the strongest of men to crumble. Her faith in Ethan was absolute and her trust in him was the glue that held their family together through the tough times. Becky was so much more than just a loving wife and a nurturing mother. She was the unseen force that piloted her family through it all and she truly was the strongest woman I have ever come in contact with.' _

The nurse saw Charlie and Alan standing nearby and moved over to offer her condolences. Placing her hand on his forearm, the woman's voice caught in her throat as she spoke.

"Your eulogy was so beautiful. Emily was a very special child and she was lucky to have someone like you in her life."

Charlie politely thanked the woman as his words about Emily surfaced in his thoughts. He had almost lost control of his emotions when he spoke of Emily, but had somehow managed to keep himself together.

'_Emily was nothing short of remarkable. I have to tell you that I am not, nor have a I ever been, a religious man. But I saw something in that child's eyes that I can only attribute to the grace of God. Whatever your beliefs, you cannot deny that this child embodied that undying spirit of love that filled the dark corners of our lives with an inextinguishable light. Emily once spoke to me of angels... And if you believe, as she did, that angels exist; then you must trust that Emily is now one of those angels. The pain and suffering she endured in this life is over, but the joy that she brought to those around her will go on. I, for one, know that she has changed my life and my perspective forever.' _

Charlie was pulled from his thoughts as the sound of crying from upstairs became distinguishable among the hushed conversations in the living room. He politely excused himself and headed for the stairs. As Charlie walked away, Becky's friend stepped closer to Alan.

"It's hard to believe that a man would be willing to take on so much responsibility for a child that isn't his own. I was told he's been granted custody of Adam since neither Becky or Ethan had any living relatives. Your son must have been very close to them."

The situation with Becky's sister resurfaced in Alan's mind and he wondered if 'any living relatives' might really be the case, but he made no effort to change her perceptions.

"He was."

As he watched Charlie climb the stairs, the last part of his eulogium echoed in Alan's mind.

'_There are certain events in the history of our world that have caused ripples in the universe. Those shock waves can change the very flow of space and time and act as triggers for cosmic events that will occur thousands of years in the future. On a much smaller scale, the loss of this family has created such a ripple. They touched so many lives in so many ways that for years to come, we will be affected by this tragedy. I know that my existence has been forever altered after becoming a part of the lives of these extraordinary people. I will miss them; I will always remember them. Their son, Adam, will grow up without them. And so our memories must become his memories. That is our job now, to keep their memory alive so Adam will have the legacy that he deserves, even if he can no longer have the loved ones he has lost.' _

When Charlie stepped into the solarium, he was surprised to see that Adam had pulled himself to his feet and was actually standing inside the co-sleeper. His tiny hands were clinging tightly to the side as his legs wobbled under his weight.

"Well look at you, you're standing up! I haven't seen you do that before."

Adam squealed when he saw Charlie enter the room and promptly fell back onto his rump. Charlie reached in and scooped the child up in his arms.  
"Two firsts in one day... I'm guessing that you might need a change and a bottle after all that. What do you think?"

Kneeling down next to the co-sleeper, Charlie placed Adam on his back on a thick towel he had left for that purpose and began to change his diaper. Oddly enough, Adam didn't try to squirm and roll over to his belly as was customary for him during a diaper change. He laid there and watched solemnly as Charlie went about changing him, as if he were fully aware of the melancholy that pervaded the soul of his new guardian. The sun, too, seemed aware of his mood and withdrew into the clouds. A veil of shadow seemed to cover the large windows of the solarium which served to increase the sporadic saturninity that Charlie had spent the last four days fending off. He wanted to grieve openly, but now just didn't seem like the right time.

_'If not now then when, Charlie? You can't just pretend that if you never leave this garage that you'll never have to accept the fact that mom is gone. That's not the way the real world works.' _

He could hear Don's voice clearly in his head and he had to remind himself that this was not the same thing. He had accepted the reality of what had happened. He was still functioning, he was still eating….. He was taking care of a six month old baby for crying out loud. He'd told his father earlier that morning that he'd done fine without Don for most of his life. But had it not been for Don, he might still be in that garage, up to his knees in chalk dust…..always moving forward, yet getting nowhere. His stomach did a wistful flip and Charlie almost felt like he needed to scold himself. Only when he was very small had he deliberately gone to his older brother for comfort and reassurance, but Charlie knew that if Don were here, that was exactly where he would go and a small part of him felt abandoned for not having that option.

Charlie was just fastening the last snap on Adam's romper when the door to the solarium opened and Alan stepped into the room. He was holding a fresh bottle in one hand and a cup of hot tea in the other.

"You take this…."  
Alan handed the tea to Charlie, then leaned over and picked Adam up from the floor.  
"And I'll take this."

Without objection, Charlie remained on the floor while his father headed for the rocking chair that they had dragged out of the recesses of the basement at some point over the last few days. Giving Adam the bottle, Alan situated himself in the chair.

"Things seem to be wrapping up down there…..and Donna is out of sausage balls."

"Well, that's as good a reason as any to call it a day."  
Offering up a faint smile, Charlie took a cautious sip of the tea before sitting the cup down on the coffee table next to him.  
"I don't suppose Colby and David are still around? I wanted to thank them for serving as pallbearers."

"They left just a few minutes ago, but I think Megan and Larry are still here. And Amita offered to stay and help clean up."

"I really miss him, Dad."

The sudden reverse polarity of tone and topic caught Alan off guard and before he could stammer a response, Charlie continued.  
"I know he had no way of knowing that this was going to happen, and even if he did, how would he know that I wouldn't be able to handle this without him. How would I have known? But I still can't help feeling like I've been forsaken. I feel so guilty for feeling this way. God, Dad….how am I supposed to do this?"

It took Alan a moment to realize that Charlie was not referring to Ethan.  
"You'll do this one day at a time, Charlie. Or one hour at a time if need be. But you'll get through it, son."

"What if……I don't think I could……I'm afraid I'll never see him again…..that something will happen to him down there and then………I don't think I could live with that, Dad. I really don't."

Alan watched the repressed emotions brewing behind his son's expressive eyes.  
"Charlie, I think if you just…………."

"No."  
Shaking his head firmly, Charlie used the coffee table to pull himself to his feet.  
"I don't need to think about this. I really don't. I just….If you've got the baby, I'm going to go help clean up."

Megan stood outside the door to the solarium. Eavesdropping wasn't exactly her usual method of gaining information, at least not without a warrant. It wasn't like she had overheard them on purpose, but Charlie's declaration that he was leaving the room prompted her to move quickly away from the door. Making her way back down the stairs, Megan wondered if Merrick had followed through on his proposal to contact Don. She knew that he wanted to after he saw her report concerning Charlie's psychological review and learned the circumstances that had placed him under such scrutiny. But she also knew it was unprecedented to get someone inside an organization like the Valdario cartel in such a short period of time and Merrick wasn't the one who made the final call when it came to Don's current assignment. The information they had thus far was good, but it might not be enough to obtain a conviction and Valdario's planned visit to the US was still just over a month away. Removing their inside man might tip off the cartel that there had been a spy among them. And in Megan's opinion, losing the advantage of months of undercover investigating wasn't something any of them, including Don, should be willing to risk.

As Megan reached the foyer, Amita was standing at the open door waiting for one of Becky's coworkers to leave. As the woman walked out the door, she spoke over her shoulder to Amita.

"If there is anything I can do to help, anything at all……….."

Amita smiled sweetly and cut her off mid-sentence.  
"You wanna stay and help clean up?"

The woman turned back, looking scandalized and slightly alarmed.

"What was that, dear?"

Amita shook her head slightly and stifled a laugh.  
"Nothing, thank you for coming."

Preparing to close the door on the hastily retreating back she turned and spotted Megan watching her. Shrugging at the agent, Amita slammed the door and headed for the kitchen calling over her shoulder, "Well, they shouldn't say it if they don't mean it."

"I couldn't agree more."  
Falling in step next to the younger woman, Megan patted her gently on the back.  
"Now, if there's anything I can do to help, anything at all….."

With a wry grin, Amita opened the door from the dining room to the kitchen and stopped to let Megan pass through, then handed her a dish cloth. Megan laughed as she stepped over to the sink and turned on the water.  
**……………………………….. **

When Charlie descended the stairs an eerie silence filled the main room. None of the guests had lingered and the only evidence that the room had recently been filled with people was a large stack of empty plastic cups that someone had sat on the corner of a shelf. The desolate solitude of the empty room augmented the feeling of hopelessness that was already flourishing in Charlie's heart. The sensation of despair assailed him so quickly and so strongly that it took his breath away.

Feeling like a bubbling pot about to boil over, Charlie walked quickly through the living room and dining room taking the swinging door that lead into the kitchen at full speed. As the door flew open, Amita turned and smiled at him; she and Megan where halfway though the dishes and Amita was holding a large glass pitcher.

"Charlie, is this yours or does it belong to Donna?"

Stopping in the middle of the room, Charlie looked at the two women as though he were a deer a caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Turning away, he moved toward the backdoor but something made him stop to give Amita another glance. She tilted her head at him, asking a silent question that Charlie didn't know how to answer. Giving her what he hoped was an apologetic look, Charlie threw open the back door and walked across the yard to the Koi pond.

The rays of the late afternoon sun filtered through a few lingering clouds casting an almost eerie glow on the Japanese Maple standing next to the pool of water. Doubling his efforts to regain his composure, Charlie tried to take a deep calming breath. Suddenly it felt as if someone had punched him the stomach driving all the air from his lungs. Wrapping his arms around his middle, Charlie tried to hold back the powerful tide of emotion but his grief would no longer be denied. Involuntarily his body surrendered to the intense surge of despair and Charlie sank to his knees on the grass and let the floodgates open.

Standing at the backdoor, Amita and Megan watched Charlie's shoulders begin to shake as his body was wracked with sobs. Amita's eyes shimmered with tears as she watched him through the window. Charlie has always been more than just a friend, and somehow seeing him like this, open and vulnerable, only reinforced her feelings for him.

At the sound of footsteps behind them, Megan turned to see Alan step into the kitchen with Adam in his arms. Looking from her to Amita, he approached the door and looked out into the yard. With a deep sigh, Alan turned and walked back to the table.

"He really thought that he could put off grieving for them. He actually thought that he would be able to keep all that emotion bottled up until Becky's sister came to get Adam. Now he knows that the heart has its own time frame that won't conform to convenience."

Amita reached for the door but Megan put her hand gently on the younger woman's arm.  
"The best thing you can do for Charlie right now is leave him alone."

When Amita turned to face her, fire flashed behind her eyes.  
"What's best for Charlie?"

"Yes, Amita."  
Alan spoke in a sad tone, but full of resolve.  
"I know it's hard to accept, but he sought solitude for this and he wants to try to face it alone. Even so, this is the best I've felt about Charlie's state of mind since the night of the accident."

Dropping her hand from the door handle, Amita cast one more glance out the windows at Charlie then turned and walked away.  
"And I should respect his choice. I just wish….."

Heading across the kitchen, Megan returned to the remaining dishes in the sink.  
"This is all part of the grieving process, Amita. Accepting his own emotions and allowing himself to experience them is the first step."

"I'm quite familiar with the works of Freud, but Charlie……"

Megan smiled at Amita's patronizing stare and cut her off mid-sentence.  
"…..needs some time alone. Just be patient with him. Maybe tomorrow, he'll be able to let you in."

Grabbing the dish towel from where she dropped it on the countertop, Amita returned to her post next to the sink.  
"Yeah, maybe tomorrow."

Alan watched the younger woman as she kept looking out the window over the sink. Her eyes were filled with the need to comfort him, the desire to make this pain go away. Alan looked pointedly at Megan and she stepped over and took the baby. Larry stepped in from the garage and was about to say something when Megan shook her head and led him out to the living room. Amita had stopped drying the dishes and was staring out the window at Charlie with tears glistening in her eyes. Walking over to her, Alan put his arm around her shoulders and she turned her head to look up at him.

"How can I just let him feel so much pain without comforting him… without trying to stop it?"

Taking a step back, Alan took Amita by the shoulders and turned her away from the window to face him, his eyes filled with empathy.

"This is hard for me too, Amita. We all love Charlie and seeing him in this kind of pain is…..well, it's almost unbearable. But it's a necessary evil. This I know from experience. If ever pain could be considered good, this is the one time, the one place where that holds true. Now Charlie can begin to heal."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**TBC**

_**A/N – Chapter Ten Content Warning**_

_It is a common sociological observation that people turn to each other for comfort and nature takes over. To be more specific, sex often follows tragedy. Healthy adults employ their primal urges as a coping mechanism, using their interpersonal physical relationships as a retreat from their grief. That said, we wanted to make you aware that there is sexual content of a PG-13 nature in the next chapter. We will re-post this warning at the top of Chapter Ten for those who missed it here._


	10. By Faith, Not By Reason

**_A/N – We said we were going to warn you again, so here it is._**

**_The following chapter contains an occurrence of consensual sex between two adults. There is nothing you would not 'see' on prime time television. Since they give warning, we feel that we should too. We are also aware that words can be more 'graphic' at times than visuals. However, we do not feel that a change of rating is in order._**

**Chapter Ten: By Faith, Not By Reason**

With his elbows on the table, Don leaned over and rested his head in his hands.  
"So he did have a total meltdown, then."

Several seconds passed in silence, and Don lifted his head to look at his father. Staring circumspectly at his son, Alan had leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"He did not have a 'meltdown'. I've been trying to tell you for years, Donnie...it's okay to cry."  
Watching a solemn patronizing expression slip over Don's face, Alan raised his eyebrows at his eldest son.  
"As a matter of fact, its more than okay. At times it is absolutely necessary and if you'd stop running from your feelings long enough to listen to your old man..."

"Whoa."  
Don cut him off mid-sentence as he pushed his chair back, away from the table and rose to his feet; his father's distain fueling the smoldering fire of his anger and frustration.  
"I thought you were done with that?"

The two men stared at each other for a moment in a silent confrontation until Alan drew a deep breath and bowed his head in surrender. Recognizing his father's earnest desire to keep the peace, Don lowered himself back into his chair.  
"Dad, I just meant that... you know... once he 'let it all out' he was fine?"

"It wasn't instantaneous, no."  
Lifting his head back up, Alan smiled warily as his son.  
"But you'd be amazed at how much better you feel after an uninhibited emotional outburst."

Cutting his eyes at his father, Don pulled his chair back up to the table and reached for his coffee cup.  
"I'm just glad he was able to come to terms with it on his own, that's all."

"On his own?"  
Alan pursed his lips and shook his head in firm denunciation.  
"Oh no, Donnie. He was never on his own."

Rolling his eyes at his father, Don pulled himself to his feet again and walked over to the coffee pot.  
"God, Dad. You know what I mean."

"No, I really don't."  
Alan watched Don pour what must have been his fourth cup of coffee in the past thirty minutes and an intense feeling of frustration washed over him.  
"I just wish I could get it through your head, Donnie. No matter what you, or Charlie, go through... you are never on your own. Your family will always be here for you."

Setting his coffee cup down next to this sink, Don stopped to look out the window at the Koi pond. In his minds eye he could picture Charlie kneeling there in solitude and he felt an awkward knot rising up in his chest.

'_Your brother will always be there for you, Charlie. Unless he's in South America trying to get the goods on some lunatic drug dealer because the mole inside the cartel insisted that he was the only one who could pull it off.'_

The unwarranted feeling of guilt was still with him, reinforced by the small voice in the back of his mind. Don knew, agreeing to the assignment, what he might be getting himself into. When Charlie picked up the phone and called Ethan, he had no way of knowing what he was opening himself up to. And he had gone through hell.

'_Not just Charlie, Don. He wasn't the only one who was almost killed. He wasn't the only one who had stood by helpless and watched someone die. Charlie wasn't the only one who needed his family... who missed his brother_.'

"I don't know what I'm going to do."

When Don spoke, it was almost to himself and Alan wasn't sure that he heard him correctly.  
"What?"

"If this doesn't go down the way it's supposed to, and Valdario gets off scot-free... I'm not sure I can handle that. Not after..."

The sudden admission of his own torment took Don by surprise and an onslaught of emotions hit him like a MACK truck. Stepping away from the sink, he turned and headed for the backdoor.

For the second time that morning, Alan watched as Don turned away from him and walked out into the yard. He followed him to the door, but something in Don's posture told Alan that he should give his son some time to gather his thoughts.

As Don plopped down in front of the Koi pond, the loose fit of his clothes was suddenly doubly apparent to Alan. He had seen the way Don's jeans had hung loosely on his too thin hips. He had noticed the blisters that had broken and healed on Don's hands and knuckles, as well as the hollow look to his cheeks that was painfully evident even through the bushy beard. Suddenly the overall appearance of defeat that Don's body language portrayed was tremendously disconcerting.

The shrill chirping of his cell phone pulled Alan out of his thoughts and he quickly grabbed it from his belt before it could disrupt the tranquility of the pair sleeping in the living room.

"Hello, Megan...  
Yes, he's here."

Returning to the backdoor, Alan stopped to watch Don where he sat, looking trounced, beneath the Japanese Maple.

"How is he? You haven't seen him, then?  
Well, he looks like hell. He's angry at me, he's angry at you. The only person he isn't angry at right now is Charlie.

...that and he feels guilty about...  
I think that might be a good idea.

Come to the back...  
No, Charlie was up all night with the baby and they're asleep on the couch.

All right. We'll see you then."

Flipping his phone shut Alan put his hand on the door frame, suddenly unsure if Megan coming over was such a good idea. He didn't want Don to think that his father didn't believe that he was capable of taking care of himself. He'd already been through that misunderstanding with Charlie. Withdrawing his hand, Alan turned and headed back into the kitchen, leaving Don alone in the backyard. Retrieving his coffee cup and taking a seat at the table, Alan let his thoughts travel back to the day after the funeral.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**25 Days Ago**

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Charlie lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to pinpoint what had woken him. The vestiges of some dream pulled at the edges of his reality, floating through his semiconscious mind wanting to pull him back into the recesses of darkness. It was the first peaceful night's sleep he'd had in almost a week and Charlie wasn't prepared to let it slip away. Allowing his eyes to close, Charlie tried to recall the substance of his dream but instead, memories of the previous night played through his mind.

He had sat by the Koi pond for what had felt like hours, allowing his grief to pour out of him in waves of repressed emotion. He had been afraid that someone would intrude on his unfettered display in an attempt to comfort him but he had mercifully remained undisturbed.

When he had re-entered the house he was utterly drained and his sides were aching from the magnitude of his sobs, yet he felt better than he had since the night of the accident. A folded sheet of paper lying on the kitchen table had caught his eye and he instantly recognized his name written in Amita's small elegant script.

_Dear Charlie,  
__I'm so sorry I had to leave. Try to get  
__some rest and I'll see you tomorrow  
__after my last final.  
__Love, Amita_

Opening his eyes again, Charlie lifted his head from his pillow and spotted the note on his bedside table. As he rolled over to retrieve it, a sharp pain just under his ribcage reminded him of why he felt so foggy and obtuse this morning. At some point during his emotional collapse, he had managed to rip the stitches in his side. Unfortunately, his father had been the one to notice.

When Charlie had walked into the living room, Megan, Larry and Alan had been sitting in the corner talking quietly. They didn't notice his entry and for a second he had actually considered trying to sneak past them, but a lingering odor of perfume in the air tickled his nose and caused him to sneeze. When he did, his hand went automatically to his side and he winced at the pain he felt there. Three heads turned in his direction and both Alan and Megan were on their feet in an instant. Blood had saturated through the bandage on his side and leaked out onto his white dress shirt staining it a vivid shade of crimson. His father had lead him upstairs in a puerile manner that left Charlie feeling like he was a five years old with a booboo.

As it turned out, it wasn't nearly as bad as it looked. The last two stitches on the front edge of the laceration had torn through the skin, but the bleeding had already stopped on its own. After cleaning up the wound and applying a clean bandage, Alan had insisted that Charlie take some pain medication and go straight to bed. Deciding it wasn't worth the effort to resist, he did as his father had bade him.

Now he wished he hadn't. The aftereffects of whatever the doctor had prescribed left him feeling dazed and disoriented, almost as if he were still dreaming. Deciding that returning to the dream wasn't a half bad idea, Charlie flopped his head back down on his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. What he perceived to be an unnatural silence pulled them open again.

Something was wrong...something was missing from his waking world. The smell of coffee told him that the dawn had arrived; the glow of light around the edges of the shade, which was pulled down over the window to his right, spoke of it being well past daybreak.

'_Is there something I'm supposed to be doing right now?'_

That thought… that question brought him fully awake and Charlie sat bolt upright in bed.

'_The baby! Why wasn't the baby crying?'_

Charlie looked over at the clock on his bedside table and read the time, not quite comprehending the numbers displayed there. The bright green LED display read 8:21 and Charlie had to question it's validity.

'_How can it be that late and Adam hasn't woken up yet?'_

Looking over, he saw that the bedroom door was closed and Charlie's heart jumped into his throat. How had that happened? He had left the door open so that he could hear Adam. Charlie jumped out of bed like he'd been shot out of a cannon and smacked his kneecap on the dresser in his panic. He spun around and reached the door in three great strides, yanking it open. The hall was as silent as his room had been.

'_The odds of SIDS are less than one in a thousand, Charlie.'_

Despite the limited probability, the fact this his mind had selected Sudden Infant Death Syndrome as the most logical assumption to account for the silence that filled the house terrified him. Running to the room next to his, Charlie stepped quickly through the open door. The sun was shining brightly through the solarium windows and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the increased brightness so that he could focus on the co-sleeper in the middle of the room. It was empty.

Charlie shook his head to clear away the last of the cobwebs, then from somewhere down stairs a loud giggle cut through the oppressive silence. Adam laughed again and Charlie released the breath that he was holding. Then he lowered himself into the rocking chair to wait for his knees to quit shaking.

When Charlie finally made his way down to the kitchen, his heart rate had slowed to normal speed. His knee was aching now, as well as his side, and his fatigue and the desire to crawl back into bed pulled at him. As he stepped into the brightly lit kitchen he saw that Larry was still there and he began to wonder if his old friend had surreptitiously moved in.

"Good morning, Charles. Did you sleep well?"

"I slept like the…"  
Biting his lip, Charlie stopped himself from finishing the sentence.  
"…Yeah, Larry I slept fine."

Moving over to the coffee pot, Charlie poured himself a cup and then turned back to his mentor.  
"Where're my father and Adam? I could have sworn I heard them when I first got up."

"We're out here, Charlie."

The voice came from the open window over the kitchen sink and Charlie stepped over to look out into the yard. Alan was standing at the bottom of the steps leading to the patio watching Adam as he crawled around the lush grass in the back yard.

"I never heard him cry this morning."

Charlie stepped away from the window and glanced at Larry who had returned to the morning paper that was spread out in front of him. Walking to the back door, Charlie pushed it open and stepped out into the morning sunshine. Squinting into the bright light, Charlie looked from his father to the baby playing happily on the lawn.

"I'm sorry that he woke you up. You should have gotten me up, Dad. I would have taken care of it."

Alan gave him a fleeting look, then quickly turned his attention back to the baby who was now trying to pull himself up on his pant leg.  
"Charlie, you were exhausted and needed to sleep."

As if to reinforce his father's point, Charlie stifled a yawn. Alan gave him a shrewd look as he continued.  
"Adam didn't wake me up. When I checked in on him this morning he was standing in the co-sleeper and having an animated conversation with a sunbeam. So I went ahead and got him up, changed his diaper and brought him down for breakfast."

Charlie's eyes drifted down to the baby, who had grown tired of trying to pull himself upright on Alan's leg and had begun to crawl at full speed toward the middle of the yard.

Adam could really move fast and almost without thinking Charlie set his coffee cup down on the step and followed him out into the grass. Instead of enjoying the sun's reflection on the water in the Koi pond, as he usually would have done on a morning such as this, Charlie suddenly saw the water as a hazard.

"Charlie? Did you hear what I just said, son?"

Charlie turned his head to his father, but he kept his eyes focused on the baby as Adam made a valid attempt to break the land speed record of the Cheetah.  
"Um….what?"

"Adam was _standing_ up in the co-sleeper."

"Oh yeah,"  
Charlie walked around toward the pond so he was standing closer to Adam than Adam was to the water.  
"He did that yesterday. I guess he's going to be walking soon, huh?"

Alan raised his eyebrows at his son questionably. He had certainly neglected to mention Adam's feat in the standing business but with everything else that transpired the day before, he knew he shouldn't be surprised.  
"Standing and walking don't always come hand in hand, Charlie. You were standing quite early yourself, but you didn't start walking until you were nearly fourteen months old. Your brother, on the other hand, pulled himself to his feet and was up and running in no time flat."

Larry had opened the backdoor and he took a step out onto the patio.  
"I, myself, began walking at a very early age. I suppose I grew weary of being unable to flee when Aunt Louise would come calling."

The comment brought a smile to Charlie's face and he laughed softly. The sound of Charlie's laughter got Adam's attention and he turned, making a b-line for the mathematician. Babbling on with his unique set of sounds, the child reached Charlie's legs and attempted to pull himself up. He tried to grab hold of something to keep himself steady, but Charlie was still wearing his robe and all Adam managed to grab was leg hair.

"Ow! Hey, Little Buddy, you don't care what hair you pull do you?"

Charlie bent down and scooped up the baby forgetting about the stitches in his side. Biting his lip and inhaling sharply, he moved over to the steps. Holding on to Adam, Charlie lowered himself down onto the top step making every effort to hide his grimace.

"Are you still bleeding, Charles?"

Larry's question brought Alan out of his own musings and he turned his attention to his son.  
"Charlie?"

Charlie held up his hand in surrender as Adam grabbed a handful of hair in his fist, laughing the whole time.  
"Hey!"  
Leaning back in an effort to elude the other fist as it reached for a wad of curls, Charlie smiled at his father.  
"No, I'm fine; just a little sore."

Seeing the intent look of concern in his father's eyes, Charlie decided a little white lie wouldn't hurt anything.  
"Seriously, Dad; its okay there's no blood. I checked the bandage before I came down. It's fine."

When Alan's expression remained unabated, Charlie leaned his head back and sighed.  
"Okay, I'll call Doctor Spector today and make an appointment to have him check it out."

Alan sat down next to his son and took the baby from his lap.  
"Charlie today is Wednesday."

Picking up his coffee cup from the step, Charlie gave his father a perplexed look and Alan shook his head at him.  
"Charlie today is Wednesday; Doctor Spector isn't in on Wednesdays."

Widening his eyes in mock exasperation, Charlie shrugged his shoulders and pulled himself gingerly to his feet.  
"Okay, but Judy will be in. I'll call and make an appointment for later in the week."

Alan still looked doubtful and Charlie gave him an earnest smile.  
"I don't think I need a trip to the emergency room for this, Dad. Honestly, I'll be fine. I promise I won't do any heavy lifting or pull out more stitches. I'll keep antibiotic ointment on the cut and clean bandages ready. I'll make the appointment for tomorrow…. deal?"

"Well, all right, Charlie. But you need to stay home today and just take it easy."

Charlie took a sip from his coffee cup and looked sideways at his father.  
"Dad, I have a lot to do today. Look, that portable crib that Amita brought is great. But now it looks like Adam is going to be here for a while. I need to do some serious shopping. We need a highchair, a crib, a play pen, a stroller, clothes, blankets…"

Larry turned, suddenly looking very interested.  
"Shopping for an infant? What an alluring notion. Now that could be a delightfully intriguing adventure."

Charlie smirked at his friend and muttered under his breath, "Or misadventure."

"I heard that, Charles."

"Charlie, shopping isn't a good idea, not with those stitches."  
Opening his mouth to object, Charlie quickly closed it again as his father continued.  
"My day is free and if Larry has no plans, he can assist me in this little adventure…or misadventure that it may be.

Charlie tried to suppress a grin, but quickly abandoned the effort.  
"You're going to go shopping…… for a baby?"

"And what is wrong with that?"  
Alan stood up with Adam still in his arms.  
"Lest you forget, I've raised two boys. Thirty years may have passed, but babies are still babies."

"Dad, it's my job….."

Cutting him off, Alan turned to head back into the house.  
"You, my boy, have one job today and that is to rest."

"Well, Dad, I'm sure you haven't forgotten that babies aren't exactly pragmatists."  
Following his father through the kitchen, Charlie stopped to set his mug down on the counter.  
"Babies also don't conform to schedules of convenience. Adam may have other ideas on how I'm going to spend my day."

"Oh, I don't think so."  
Alan turned to smile at his youngest son.  
"Charlie, do you really think I would leave you here alone with Adam when you can hardly pick him up? He'll be coming with us."

For a moment Charlie stood with his mouth open, trying to find a suitable reply but Alan didn't wait for it. He headed through the dining room and was halfway up the stairs before Charlie accepted that he really had very little choice in the matter.

When Alan returned a few minutes later with Adam in his arms and a fully loaded diaper bag slung over his shoulder, Charlie handed him his credit card.  
"My available balance is at least three thousand, so you should be able to get everything we are going to need."

Larry's mouth fell open, and then he turned to stare at Alan in disbelief.  
"Three thousand; good Lord are babies that expensive?"

With a nod in Charlie's direction and an affable smile, Alan turned toward the door.  
"You'll see for yourself in about an hour."

………………………………

Stopping in the doorway of the Super Baby Warehouse, Larry's mouth fell open again as his eyes swept the gigantic room.  
"Oh my good Lord."

His exclamation got the attention of a nearby sales associate in a burgundy golf shirt with the letters SBW embroidered on the front. As the young woman made her way across the floor toward them, she grabbed a shopping cart and pulled it along with her.

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

Alan greeted her with a warm smile.  
"That depends……"

Larry answered the question concurrently with Alan's remark.  
"Do you provide maps of your facility?"

The young woman laughed in response to what she thought was a joke, but Larry was standing in awe of the sheer size of the building and his face remained stoic.  
"I suppose I never truly considered that the name was actually an adequate description of the structure."

"I take it this is your first visit to the new and improved Super Baby Warehouse? Well, we have everything you could possibly need to prepare yourself for……………..a new baby or…………."

Her oration faltered as Alan and Larry stared at her slack jawed. She held her ear to ear grin for a good thirty seconds before she let it slip into an uncomfortable smile.

"Well, my name is Ivy and if there is anything I can do for you two gentlemen; you just let me know."

The baby that the taller of the two men was holding in his arms was the only one who responded to her remark.  
"Lee lee?"

The child seemed to be asking a question, and she stepped up to say hello to him.  
"Is your grandpa going to buy you a new toy, huh, little fella?"

"Oh, he's not my grandson."

The young woman raised her eyes to Alan and then turned to look questioningly at Larry who shrugged his shoulders at her.

"Well, when I heard it took a village, I had no idea I was going to end up one of the inhabitants. But here I am."

Nodding as if she understood, her eyes reflected confusion and the young woman turned away from the unlikely pair and headed toward the back of the warehouse. Casting one more glance over her shoulder she called out to them, "Well, if you need any assistance, you fellas let me know."

Watching her walk away, Alan pulled the cart up in front of him and sat Adam down in the front. As he buckled the seatbelt around the baby's middle, he glanced at Larry. The eccentric physicist was still staring around the warehouse in awe.  
"It is all rather daunting isn't it, Alan?"

As they strode toward the first isle, Alan nodded in agreement.  
"The warehouse? Yes, well, we have a list. The stores are bigger and there seem to be a lot more choices than I remember…. but the requirements of child care are still the same."

"Yes, the warehouse is rather…overwhelming."  
Walking alongside the cart, Larry looked pointedly at Adam.  
"But I meant this….. this thing that Charlie had gotten himself into. Parenthood and all its concomitant responsibilities…. temporary though it may be, I find myself hoping that Charlie is adroit enough to handle it."

"So do I, Larry. So do I."

………………………………

Charlie had showered quickly and then re-dressed the wound under his ribs, just as he had promised his father. He fully intended to grab one of his spiral notebooks and get set up on the couch, but before he could even sit down, the doorbell rang.

He opened the door to find Jacob McFarland, the CEO of Visual Horizons, standing on his front steps wearing a three piece suit and a carrying a briefcase.

"Good Morning, Doctor Eppes."

Charlie eyed him suspiciously as the man continued speaking.  
"I wish to offer you my condolences for your loss. You spoke so eloquently of Ethan in your eulogy yesterday that I can see that this loss has been devastating to you."

There was a moment of silence as Charlie contemplated the possible reasons behind the CEO making a personal appearance today since he had been at the funeral as well as the wake and hadn't even bothered to speak to him then.  
"Yes, it has. Why don't you get to the point, Mister McFarland?"

Shifting his feet uncomfortably, Mr. McFarland plunged ahead resolutely.  
"Well, Doctor Eppes, I'm not accustomed to begging. But here it goes. Mister Burdick was at an extremely critical stage on a very time sensitive project."

Rather than invite the man into his home, Charlie stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him.  
"Yes, I am familiar with the project. I was assisting Ethan with several of the minor details on the CIT program's primary algorithm the night he was killed."

Mr. McFarland's eyes lit up with this news, but he kept his expression solemn.  
"Oh, I see… I did not wish to approach you yesterday, as the timing seemed so…inappropriate. But as it stands…well, we have a deadline and if we have any hope of getting this contract, we must have a completed model to present to the client."

"And you want me to finish it?"

"Yes."

Charlie shook his head and looked down.  
"I'm sorry, but all of Ethan's work was destroyed with the house. I have no way to access any of his notes or files. I may have been assisting him that night, and I may be familiar with the techniques and equations that he was using, which were brilliant by the way…. but for me to help you now, I would have to start from scratch."

"Actually, Doctor Eppes,"  
Gesturing toward his car, Mr. McFarland shook his head.  
"That isn't quite true. Ethan was required to keep duplicate files and send frequent copies of all of his work to the mainframe at our corporate headquarters. It's a common security measure that we employ in case of any unforeseen problems."

"You mean like a tree falling on one of your researchers and destroying all of his files?"

McFarland's eyebrows shot up at that and Charlie suddenly felt badly for taking it out on this man. He was only doing his job and acting in the best interests of his company.  
"Look, I'm sorry that was uncalled for. It's been… a hard week."

"I completely understand Doctor Eppes. The consulting fee that we agreed upon for Mister Burdick's services has already been set aside. We'd like to honor that since he was so closed to being finished and we feel that some compensation is required for the work that he did. We can negotiate a new fee for your services as well."

Charlie knew he should decline the offer, but Ethan's fee for this project had been quite substantial. It had been the one freelance job that he had felt selfishly hesitant about handing over to his friend. With skilled investments, a fee like that could easily become a suitable college fund in less than eighteen years.

Making his decision, Charlie turned to face the CEO.  
"All right; I want the going rate on top of whatever you were going to pay Ethan."

He paused to give Mr. McFarland a chance to object, but the man only nodded his head intently and Charlie continued.  
"Then I guess you have yourself a deal. The money will be going directly to Ethan's son, Adam. I'll have my lawyer contact you with details. If you can get me all of the notes that Ethan turned in, I'll do what I can to finish the project by your deadline. Ethan was less than a couple of days away from completing it when he…. when I went over to help him and I have a pretty good idea of where he was headed with it."

When the man in the three piece suit extended his hand, Charlie firmly returned the handshake.  
"Just send me the files and I'll get started right away."

"Actually,"  
Mr. McFarland looked sheepishly from Charlie to his car, which was parked in the street at the end of the driveway. He gestured to his driver, who was standing at the trunk.  
"I have all of Ethan's files in the car… Rather presumptuous of me, I know. You say you can get started right away?"

………………………………

By the time Amita arrived Charlie was in full work mode out in the garage. She stood behind him in the doorway for a few minutes looking around the room. Several stacks of banker's boxes were scattered around. One box had been opened and papers from it were spread out over the table top. She watched him for several minutes before she stepped into his work space and gently put a hand on his shoulder.

The touch startled him and Charlie turned quickly, bumping Amita's shoulder knocking her off balance. He reached automatically out and caught her around the waist to keep her from falling.  
"Charlie.."

"Sorry. I was…."  
Looking into her dark eyes, Charlie found his heart teeming with an almost overwhelming awareness of their close proximity to one another.

"You father is not going to be happy. Shouldn't you be……"  
He looked so pleased to see her that Amita momentarily forgot that she was supposed to be scolding him for not taking it easy.  
"Charlie, you….."

A moment later, she found herself stunned into silence when he pulled her in and kissed her… a long kiss that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside of him. He had never kissed her like that before but just as she began to wrap her arms around him, Charlie pulled back.

"I'm sorry I was so… unavailable last night."

Amita lifted a hand to her mouth, still savoring the feel of his lips on hers and she took a moment to come to her senses and answer.  
"Charlie, you have nothing to be sorry for."

As Charlie stood there, staring into those eyes, he felt a fire…a need blossom in his chest. Dropping his chalk he reached up, brushing his hand lightly across her face and through her hair. When she leaned into his touch, Charlie lifted his other arm and took her face in his hands. The craving to embrace her, to drink her in, was so intense it was almost irrepressible. But he moved slowly as some part of him recognized the need to let her allow the contact.

Taking a step forward, Charlie closed the space between them. His body wasn't actually touching hers, except for his hands on her face and he kept his lips the barest whisper apart from her own. Amita could see the yearning in Charlie's eyes and having his body so close to hers, taut with urgency, ignited her own ardor.

She responded to his silent desire and moved closer allowing her hips to brush up against him. His obvious arousal set her heart racing and she enveloped him in a hard and passionate kiss, leaning into him with her whole body.

Encompassing her in his arms, Charlie felt his desire grow as if an inferno were flaring up inside of him. As he ran his hands over her body, it seemed that he wanted to touch every part of her at once and when she began to grapple with the front of his jeans, Charlie did the same, feeling a swell of intensity unlike anything he had ever felt before. Their breathing became heavy as they twisted their bodies around each other seeking even more contact, as if they were trying to physically melt into one another.

All sense and reason, as well as their pants, were left by the blackboard as they made their way clumsily across the room to the couch that sat near the door. Unwilling to break their physical contact, the couple nearly toppled over one of the boxes of files that McFarland had brought in. Falling heavily onto the couch, Charlie's body crushing into hers, only served to heighten Amita's fervor as she opened herself to him completely.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Charlie wondered what had caused such an instantaneous and intense arousal to rise up inside of him but that question lay muted in the face of the wanton desire that coursed through his veins. The fact that Amita returned those feelings in full measure and without the slightest reservation should have caused some level of trepidation in him but instead it only served to increase the wave of smoldering heat that was overtaking them both. Never in his life had he made love with so much primitive abandon and nothing he had ever experienced could compare to the passionate intensity he felt radiating from the woman in his arms.

Holding tightly to Charlie's body, Amita soon found herself lost in an ecstasy that she never could have imagined. In those moments, everything outside of their union was forgotten and it seemed as if nothing else in the world existed but for the two of them. The unreserved display of passion that they both displayed increased their tempo until it hit a dizzying crescendo that left them breathless.

Amita and Charlie lay panting in each other's arms from their fierce and nearly feral coition. They never even managed to completely disrobe. Staring into Amita's eyes, Charlie found it impossible to look away. A tremendous feeling of gratitude overtook him and he smiled at her as he ran his fingers gently across her lips.  
"Thank you."

"Thank you?"  
Amita furrowed her brow questioningly and frowned at him as she pushed him up and off of her.  
"Thank you?"

He saw the flash of anger in her eyes as she stood and stalked past him to retrieve her pants. Pulling himself up from the couch, Charlie followed her across the room.

"Not for… well yes... but…I mean no… Look, what…what I mean is _thank you _for being a part of my life."

Holding her jeans up to her chest, Amita turned to face him as he continued.

"Thank you for always knowing what to say and for being a friend to me when I'm impossible to talk to. Thank you for putting up with my… how did you put it?... my monumental ego? For being the most amazing woman I have ever known and…."  
Stepping up in front of her, Charlie reached down and took Amita's hand in his.  
"And yes, thank you for this, for us. I'm not sure exactly why, or how, that happened… but you were right there when I needed you, just like you always are."

Pulling her hand to his lips, Charlie kissed it delicately before he continued.  
"I don't know how I ended up with someone like you in my life but I am eternally grateful for you and everything you mean to me."

Staring at him, tears suddenly obscured her vision and she felt her anger melting away with his words. Being haphazardly thanked for a mere sexual favor was one thing…but his gratitude went far deeper than that and she chided herself for her overreaction. Harboring insecurities about his genius and wondering how she would stand on her own in the face of that brilliance had kept her from allowing herself to be uninhibited with Charlie. This was the first time he had ever used these kind of words to express himself to her…. words spoken as an equal in life, love and in intellect… and in that moment, she could see herself truly loving him in return.

A strong breeze blew through the door that led out to the yard banging it against the wall, breaking the spell. They both turned to look at the open door suddenly realizing how imprudent they had been. Releasing her hand and grabbing his own jeans from the floor, Charlie looked apprehensively at Amita. As she stepped into her pants, she leaned forward and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

"You're welcome."

**………………………………...**

When Larry and Alan pulled into the driveway behind Amita's car it was almost dinnertime. Transferring the new car seat from the backseat of Alan's sedan to the top of the new stroller, where it fastened securely into place, they entered the garage from the driveway. Charlie and Amita were writing furiously on the blackboards set up all along the back side of the workspace that Charlie had set up for himself. Neither one of them noticed the threesome standing just inside the doorway. Alan's first thought was that Charlie should be resting, but as he watched the pair working together, he couldn't help but notice the chemistry that was evident between them. He also couldn't help but notice the pair of hunter green boxer shorts lying on the floor in front of the couch.

"Well, it looks as though my advice has been completely ignored."

Charlie turned to look at his father, an almost imperceptible smile playing over his face, then he turned his eyes to the stroller and the baby sound asleep in the seat. Amita also turned, chalk dust clinging to her raven hair. As they both approached to examine the stroller-car seat combo, Charlie spoke in a hushed voice.  
"I take it the shopping went well?"

There was an extended pause as Alan and Larry exchanged a significant glance.  
"That depends on your definition of 'well', Charlie."

Allowing himself a cautious grin, Charlie put out his hand toward his father.  
"Do I still have a credit card, or did they cut it in half for you at the last store?"

"Now come on, don't you trust your own father?"

Larry snickered quietly to himself and put his hands into his pockets.  
"Just wait until I leave to give him the receipt, Alan."

"Receipt? You got everything we needed at one store?"

"Oh, yes."

Nodding in pseudo amazement, Alan dug a folded up piece of paper from his back pocket.  
"The Super Baby Warehouse lives up to it monumental reputation."

The playful mockery in his voice was apparent and Charlie almost laughed at him. When Alan handed him the receipt, Larry took two large over exaggerated steps back.

"Oh come on, Larry. It can't be that….."  
Charlie stopped speaking for a moment and then looked up at his father.  
"Well, that's the last time I send you out for a few thousand dollars worth of baby supplies."

"Good Lord, I hope so."  
With a smile, Alan circled around the stroller and headed for the table and the pile of folders that had been stacked there.  
"So, what is it that has the two of you so engrossed when you were supposed to be resting?"

Alan raised an eyebrow at his son with a slight smile as his eyes went to the floor by the couch. Charlie followed his father's quick glance and saw the pair of boxers that he had forgotten to retrieve. With a furious blush creeping up his face Charlie turned quickly to the blackboard.

"This is Ethan's work. The CEO of Visual Horizons came by and asked me to finish his project. I'm setting the fee for this job up in some sort of trust fund for Adam."

"Oh I see, and did you call Dr. Spector's office to make an appointment?"

By the look on Charlie's face Alan wasn't sure if it had completely slipped his mind, or if he'd had no intention of doing so in the first place.  
"Have you even checked on it today, Charlie?"

"I did, I……"

Charlie's contrite expression gave Alan the impression that the wound had been left untreated.  
"Well, get upstairs and see if it needs a clean bandage."

"Charlie?"  
Amita stepped forward and put her hand on his arm, her concern evident.  
"What's going on, did something happen?"

Larry was preoccupied with the expressions that had been written across the blackboard, and he answered her question offhandedly.  
"Charles ripped a couple of stitches last night."

Amita's shocked look along with Charlie's still blushing face confirmed what Alan was thinking.  
"Oh, Charlie."

Turning to him with her eyes wide, she pulled her hand off his arm as if he had burned her. If she had known that Charlie had re-injured himself, she never would have been so vigorous.  
"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Its fine, I'm fine. I actually forgot all about it."

Charlie had turned toward Amita and Alan stepped forward, brazenly lifting the edge of his son's shirt. The gauze bandage was stained with fresh bleeding and his dark t-shirt was wet from where it had come into contact with the bandage.

"Oh my God, Charlie!"  
Amita's face paled at the sight of the bloody bandage. Neither of them had noticed the bleeding and the young woman was immediately besot with guilt.  
"I'm so sorry, Charlie. I never would have…."  
She remembered that they were no longer alone in the garage and clamped her mouth shut with one hand.

Charlie stepped away from his father, pulling the edge of his t-shirt from Alan's hand.  
"Its okay, Amita, I'm fine."

"Fine?"  
Alan raised his voice slightly and reached for the shirt again, but Charlie sidestepped him.  
"You're bleeding, Charlie. That hardly qualifies as fine."

Amita took her hand off her mouth and turned to face Alan.  
"I'm so sorry Mr. Eppes, if I had known."

"It's not your fault, Amita. Charlie has never been very good at following advice when it interferes with other activities he would prefer to engage in."

This comment made Amita blush furiously and she looked away from Alan wondering how he could possibly know what they had been doing.  
"Honestly, Mr. Eppes, I would have made him call the doctor if I had realized…"

Charlie stepped forward and glared at her dubiously. He'd had enough of this and his contrition quickly morphed into outrage.  
"Hey, I'm standing right here! Could you please stop talking about me like I'm not standing right here!"

Charlie's eyes were blazing, as he looked at each face in the garage.  
"I'll take care of it, I'm not a child!"

Looking at Larry, Charlie nodded gratefully to his friend.  
"Larry, thank you for helping with the shopping; I appreciate it."

When he turned to look at Amita, his eyes softened, as did his tone of voice.  
"Amita, thank you for…..everything. You've been so….amazing…. amazingly helpful this past week and now with this project…. I…. You've been invaluable."

Then Charlie turned and looked at his father with steely eyes.  
"Dad, I'm going upstairs now to clean up and change this bandage. Then I will come down and take Adam. I do not need a babysitter nor do I need my father telling my friends, right in front of me, that I am essentially irresponsible and that I only think about what I want and not what I need."

Without giving anyone the opportunity to reply, Charlie turned away from the three stunned faces that were staring at him and stalked off into the house.

………………………………

**TBC**

dHALL and I would like to wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving. We find ourselves very thankful to all of you for reading our little tale and letting us know what you think. Go have some turkey and cranberry sauce and we'll see you all after the holiday!


	11. In Regret of One's Mistakes

**Chapter Eleven: In Regret of One's Mistakes**

When Alan walked into the garage, he found Don standing in front of one of the blackboards staring at the mass of mathematical expressions there as if he were trying to derive some complex meaning from them. He was lost in his own thoughts, but he seemed less vexed than he had been and Alan was glad he had followed his parental instincts and gave Don some time to himself to come to terms with his emotions. For a few minutes, as he sat alone in the kitchen thinking about the funeral and the days that followed, Alan wondered if he'd been right to leave Don alone. In his three months away, his eldest son had obviously been through some exceedingly painful experiences himself. He didn't want Don to feel that he was alone, or had been abandoned, due to his current temperament. Deciding fifteen minutes was long enough; Alan followed Don into the garage. Now, seeing him standing there looking at those blackboards, it struck Alan how similar his boys appeared sometimes. He had just seen Charlie yesterday in that same spot, staring, with the same intensity, at those boards.

"Sometimes I can stare at Charlie's work for hours and never know what it is I'm supposed to be looking at."

"It's a probability equation." Don answered, without turning around and Alan raised his eyebrows as he walked up behind him.

"How do you know that?"

Don shrugged his shoulders.  
"I've seen enough of them by now, I guess."

The garage grew silent and Alan watched the movement of Don's shoulders as he inhaled and exhaled with conscious precision.  
"What are you thinking about, Donnie?"

Don turned to face his father and Alan could see sadness in his older son's eyes that had not been there before or at least it hadn't been obvious underneath the other emotions of shock, fear and anger.  
"I was thinking about you and Charlie... mostly Charlie, actually. Dad, please don't misunderstand me when I say this. Okay?"

Don hesitated, and Alan stepped over to him and wrapped his arm around his eldest shoulders.  
"I can't promise I won't misunderstand, but I will certainly give you time to clarify. Whatever you need to say, Donnie, just go ahead and say it. You should know by now that my love for my sons isn't contingent on being in constant agreement with them."

Struck by his father's aberrant inclination toward physical reassurance, Don allowed the embrace to continue for several seconds before stepping away and turning back to the blackboard. He stood with his back to his father for a moment before he found his voice.  
"Charlie isn't the only one who felt forsaken."

Don's words were muttered in such a quiet tone, that it almost seemed as if he were talking to himself, then he cleared his throat and continued.  
"When you told me that Charlie felt like….well, that he kind of felt as if I'd deserted him and then he felt guilty for feeling that way……The minute you said it, I completely understood. There were so many times over the last three months... the last three weeks were the worst….and….."

His voice grew quieter as he spoke until; once again, Don was almost speaking in a whisper.  
"I….I guess I just missed him so….….so much that it hurt sometimes…..and I'd think about home, and how safe it was here, and I'd be so grateful that he was out of harm's way, at home, safe and with you….not a care in the world, really. And then I'd find myself angry….at him…."  
Don turned and fixed his eyes on his father.  
"…at Charlie! I was angry at him! Can you believe that? I kept thinking that he was here with his cushy job and a safe place to sleep and whatever he wanted to eat, whenever he wanted to eat it…and…….."

Turning away again, Don walked across the room to look out the window.  
"After a while, the hunger and … The other things happening started to get to me. I was…..feeling so... I don't know maybe a little jealous, but then I'd be plagued with guilt for feeling that way….and then, I'd just try not to think about it. I tried to focus on the job but I just….everything I did, I kept thinking of Charlie. I really missed him. That doesn't mean that I didn't miss you too, Dad….it's just that Charlie and I have become…I don't know how to say it exactly….but there are times when we can look at each other and say things without saying them. With just a look, I know what he's thinking and he can see me too….really see me, Dad. No one has ever been able to connect with me like that before… Hell, I never thought anyone would, much less my brother. But we've spent so much time working together and now….."

Turning from the window, Don wandered over to the couch. He sank down into it heavily and sighed.  
"Damn it. I just never expected to miss him that badly. And now I'm finding out what he's been through, what he's endured and I'm….."

When Don stopped speaking, Alan approached the couch.  
"What is it, Donnie?"

Don looked up at his father and there was an undefined fear mixed with the sadness that was reflected in his eyes.  
"What if we've lost that, Dad? I'd just gotten so used to his…..you know, just having him around…to talk to, to be that instant friend when I need one. The last three months have been life changing for both of us and through this whole mess we didn't have each other to go to and what if….. What if... we don't really need each other anymore?"

As Don clasped his hands together in his lap, Alan noticed again how rough and scarred his skin had become in such a short time. Sitting down on the couch, he smiled and put his hand on his son's back.  
"You and your brother have forged a bond that is not easily broken. I know it hasn't always been that way for the two of you, but that doesn't make it any less enduring. Three months and some bad experiences cannot shatter what you have with your brother. The kind of connection that you are describing is strong enough to withstand a far greater test than trauma and separation. These bonds form between people and they last a lifetime. Those are the ties that make a family, Donnie."

"God, I hope you're right. I guess I'm just a little nervous about talking to him. I'm not so good with….you know…..spilling my guts or talking about how I feel."

Don's candid confession to his lack of emotional aptitude hung in the air for a moment and he lifted his eyes, waiting for his father to respond. He was surprised to see Alan grinning at him.  
"_You…_afraid to talk about your feelings? _No_."

The mock surprise in his father's voice brought a smile to Don's face and he shook his head as he chuckled.  
"Hey…I'm not that bad!"

"No, I suppose not. But your brother is going to want to…..."

Alan's discourse was interrupted when Don suddenly jerked his head around and pulled himself to his feet in one swift movement. From behind the couch, a rustling noise clued him in on what had prompted Don's sudden motion and Alan turned toward the door. Despite Megan's warm smile, Don's relaxed expression of a few moments ago had vanished.

"Don. It's good to have you back."

Alan immediately got up and walked around the couch, greeting Megan affectionately with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Don, however, remained stock-still and stared at her with an ambiguous combination of emotions playing across his features. The sudden change in Don's demeanor was disconcerting, and Alan's instinct was to scold him for his hostile greeting. When he turned to face his son, the way that Don was holding his shoulders made him reconsider. Keeping his mouth shut, Alan stepped aside. Megan gave him a cordial nod, holding her smile as she raised her eyebrows at Don. At first, Don opened his mouth as if to speak but seemed to think better of it and clamped it shut again.

"I know how you must be feeling right now."

That comment loosened his tongue and Don found his voice; a cold steely voice that sent chills down Alan's spine.   
"Oh, I doubt very much that you have the slightest idea what I am feeling right now, Agent Reeves."

Megan walked over to the couch, took a seat, and waited; hoping Don would do the same. She wanted him to hear her words and in the state he was in, there wasn't much chance of that. After an early morning phone call from Assistant Director Merrick, she had prepared herself for a frosty reception, even outright hostility and Don didn't disappoint. He was glaring at her with his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Again, she raised her eyebrows in an attempt to induce conversation but Don only took a deep breath and turned away from her. He commenced pacing the garage like a caged lion and the tension that began building in the room was tangible. Megan decided to remain silent and allow Don to initiate any confrontation but as she watched him walk back and forth, she felt her nerve slipping. It only took him a few moments to collect his thoughts enough to verbalize them and although Megan had schooled herself carefully, when Don spun around to face her, the anger in his eyes was such that she found it difficult not to flinch.

"Why?"

Rather than try to answer him at that moment, Megan forced herself to remain reticent and waited for him to continue.

"Was a potential conviction for Valdario so important that no one thought I needed to know when my brother was almost killed? No one considered it a priority to inform me that Charlie had to endure the indignity of not one, but _two_ psychological reviews because he survived a horrific trauma. No one thought to mention that while I was away my family struggled with death, emotional trauma and the prospect of caring for the infant child of a dead friend."

All of the anger and frustration that had been hounding him all morning was finally coming out. At last, he had someone to direct it toward and he was going to vent it all whether it was fair or deserved. Don took several gaping steps toward her, but Megan made no effort to circumnavigate his angry advance. Instead, she remained quietly seated and perfectly composed as she listened to him rant. She took in his gaunt appearance, the deep circles under his eyes; she noted the abused skin on his hands and arms. Don began to pace again while he bellowed at her and Megan noticed a slight limp in his left leg when he pivoted and put all of his weight on that foot. She wasn't shocked by what she saw; after all, she had read the debriefing notes about his time in Colombia. More than anything, she was surprised he looked as good as he did and had to resist saying so as he continued speaking.

"I've been back in Los Angeles for almost two full days. I've been in and out of various FBI offices, virtually surrounded by my well-informed colleagues, including our very own Agent Granger, and yet no one….._NO ONE_ felt the need to tell me what I was going to be walking into when I got home? I don't know about you, Reeves, but I think I've done my part. I happen to think I've earned a few answers here and I expect to get them!"

Megan nodded unconsciously in agreement to Don's statement. What Don had 'earned' was hardly in question. They had discovered early in the investigation that Valdario acquired most of his menial laborers as an alternative means of debt collection. When cash payments could not be made, he allowed his debtors to work off what they owed. Sometimes the individual who owed him money would work off the debt, but more often than not Valdario would choose a family member to work off the debt for them. The reputation of the Valdario cartel left little question as to the means and ease of this kind of repayment, yet Don had still been willing to subject himself to such treatment. At the time, the prospect of obtaining evidence against Valdario _was_ more important than anything else...…even to Don. When one of Valdario's coyotes mistook Don for one of their runners, the FBI had jumped on the opportunity to make a deal that would get someone into the compound, even as slave labor. Most agents wouldn't have been able to cope with the continued physical abuse and starvation tactics that Valdario used on the men and women that were brought to him under these circumstances. Yet, Don had not only persevered, he had managed to infiltrate the estate and collect the evidence that they needed to throw Valdario and most of his associates behind bars for the rest of their lives.

"Well! What's it gonna be, Reeves?"

Don's question pulled Megan out of her thoughts and she lifted her eyes to look at her boss as he completed his ultimatum.  
"You have five seconds to start answering my questions, or so help me God; there will be hell to pay!"

Megan tried to keep her expression nonplussed as she nodded at him.  
"So, are you finished, then?"

Perceiving Megan's comment to be crassly patronizing, Don released his anger and frustration in a violent fury smashing his fist into the wood pillar next to him.

The smack of bone and flesh slamming into the timber reverberated throughout the room followed by a sharp intake of breathe from Alan. Don hadn't even noticed that he had split his knuckles open as he took a menacing step forward.  
"NO! I am not finished. I'm not even getting started!"

Despite her empathetic feelings toward Don and the circumstances of his situation, Megan found herself angered by his uncontrolled display and she shook her head.  
"Then I can wait until you're done."

"The hell you can! I want answers, Agent, and your five seconds are up."

Alan had remained standing just behind the couch and from his vantage point, he could see the blood openly running from Don's hand and dripping to the floor. As badly as he wanted to rush to his aid, Alan found himself completely entranced by his son's rage…and more than a little frightened by it. Megan, however, seemed unaffected by the spectacle and he couldn't believe that she was just sitting there while his son, looking more like a deranged escapee than a federal agent, towered over her filled with enough hostility to alarm the most courageous of hearts. Rather than cower from him, she sat back against the cushions of the couch and crossed her legs in a nonchalant gesture.

Despite the fact that she had the training to take him down, Megan found herself unwilling to engage in a physical confrontation with Don. But she was also unwilling to continue the conversation until he came to his senses. Laying her arm across the back of the couch, Megan took a deep breath. Regarding Don with a calm demeanor, she raised her wrist and pointed at his bleeding hand.  
"I am more than willing to tell you what you need to know, Don Eppes. But I will not have this discussion with you until you calm yourself down."

Then almost as an afterthought, she added, "And go clean yourself up. You're bleeding all over Charlie's rug."

The silence held the room for several seconds while she waited for Don's response. When there was none, Megan sat up again and put both feet flat on the floor.  
"Go clean up your hand, Don. Then if you can come back here and listen to what I have to say without breaking anything else, I'll give you your answers. If those terms are unacceptable to you, then I guess I should leave."

She made a move to get up and Don stepped back from her, holding his hands up in a gesture for her to stop.  
"Leave? No, you can't leave! Megan….I…"

As she pulled herself to her feet, Don looked into Megan's eyes and he knew without a doubt that if he didn't rein in his emotions that was exactly what she would do. He wanted to keep his rage alive, but at the same time, he knew he was being unfair. This shouldn't all be put on her shoulders, and from what his father had told him, things would have turned out far worse for Charlie had it not been for Megan. Taking a deep breath, Don forced the anger and frustration back down.

"Look, I'm angry…okay? I should have been here for my family. Someone should have told me what was going on back home."

Don's shoulders slumped slightly. Megan had not relaxed her stance and he was starting to wonder if he had gone too far.  
"I'm sorry… I… Please… I'm…I'm just so damn angry."

Megan lowered herself back down to the edge of the couch and looked closely at Don.  
"You have every right to be angry, Don. But you also don't have all the facts. One of the reasons that I'm here is to provide you with those facts. Seriously, though, you have to go clean yourself up. I can't talk to you when you're bleeding all over the place."

Don looked down at his hand as if just noticing the self-inflicted injury. From the look in Megan's eyes, he could see that she was not going to yield. Sighing heavily, Don turned away from her and marched through the door and into the house. Casting an apologetic look at Megan, Alan hesitantly followed his son.

When they returned to the garage, Megan was off the couch and pacing in front of one of Charlie's many blackboards. Don's right hand was now tightly wrapped, a white gauze bandage covering his knuckles. His eyes still held a steely glare, but he quietly crossed the room and placidly took a seat on the couch. Alan looked to Megan as if for instruction and Don's eyes narrowed as she indicated to his father that he should also sit. It was apparent that Megan had decided to remain standing and she wasted no time getting started.

"Colby wanted to talk to you on the trip back to the states, Don, but he was ordered not to."

"_Ordered _not to?"

"Yes, at least not until after your debriefing."

Don opened his mouth again to voice his disapproval, but Megan put her hand out to stop him.  
"I happened to agree with that, Don. As a matter of fact, I suggested it."

Don nearly launched himself off the couch at this statement, his efforts to remain calm quickly forgotten, but his father laid a firm hand on his arm. Megan appeared unruffled in spite of Don's near outburst and she approached the couch looking cool and composed.  
"Don, at that point there was nothing you could have done."

Trying to keep her tone reassuring, Megan carefully positioned herself in front of the two men so she was essentially standing over them.  
"You were already on your way home. Having this hanging over you would have adversely affected your ability to relay all of the facts and events of your assignment."

Megan made it clear through her voice and body language that she was in charge of this 'interview'. There was nothing threatening in her stance, but the authority and strength that she radiated was daunting. If Don hadn't been so exhausted, both mentally and physically, he would have instantly recognized the tactic. It was one of the most common interrogation techniques in the book, and he had used it himself on countless occasions.

"There are several reasons why the situation with Charlie, as well as other factors of _this_ operation, were not covered during your debriefing. We thought it pertinent that we not divulge any personal information during the official debriefing because of the multiple agencies that were sitting in. There are also Colombian governmental officials who will be receiving copies of the transcripts from those meetings once we have Valdario in custody."

At this statement, Don went rigid as he looked up at Megan analytically. His confusion was evident, but Megan chose to ignore his unspoken question and plunged ahead.  
"The fact remains that this is far from over. There are agents at risk from other organizations now. Using the information that _you _provided, at least two vice cops from the LAPD have worked their way into the Los Angeles branch of the cartel and there is no telling what's in the works that we aren't privy too yet. We could blow the whole case...or lose our key witnesses by revealing too much in front of someone we don't completely trust... and spilling personal, family information about the federal agent who gave us the means to take down this organization didn't seem like a very good plan. Colby had every intention of speaking to you privately and off the record, but when he got back, you were already gone."

Don knew he couldn't argue with this and he felt his anger toward Colby start to slip away. After his stealthy extraction from the Valdario compound and during the plane ride to L.A., Colby had remained uncharacteristically silent. Other than a friendly greeting and the pronouncement that he looked terrible, his fellow agent had hardly said two words to him. Once they had arrived at headquarters, Colby had brought him some clean clothes as well as the keys to his SUV, which was parked in the FBI garage. Before he left, Colby told him that he had some stuff to talk to him about but it would have to wait. Besides that, Megan was more right than he was willing to admit. The only thought in his mind after the debriefing had concluded was 'home'. Nothing else seemed quite as important as that. He hadn't even asked when Valdario's plane was landing at LAX or who was leading the squad that would execute the warrant.

In an attempt to maintain his sense of righteous indignation, Don rose to his feet forcing Megan to take a step back.  
"Well, what about Merrick?"

"What about him?"

"I saw him when I first got there. He could have said something...anything."

Megan crossed her arms in front of her and returned his steady glare.  
"And how many people were flanking you guys?"

It was a simple question but it stopped Don dead in his tracks. He didn't want to admit that there was no one to blame for his ignorance of his family's situation. He wanted to be angry about this; no, he _needed_ to be angry. The anger was the only thing he had found to mask the guilt that wouldn't surrender its hold over him.

"Don, you know full well it would have been out of order for Merrick to pull you aside before the debriefing. When was the next time you saw him?"

Megan cocked an eyebrow at him and waited. For almost a full minute, Don held her gaze but he was forced to look away and he hung his head in surrender. She had made her point and he had no choice but to admit that she was right. Alan on the other hand was lost when the palpable tension in his son's body drained away and Don's shoulders went limp. He knew that something had been non-verbally communicated between the agents but he didn't know what.

"Donnie? What happened between you and the Assistant Director?"

Don lifted his head to look into his father's concerned face. The anger that had only moments ago blazed in Don's eyes was completely gone. In its place, he could see a blatant culpability. But what his son was holding himself accountable for, Alan could only guess. When Don spoke, his voice was soft and filled with so much self-condemnation that Alan instantly felt an upsurge in his paternal desire to protect his child from whatever was causing this pain.

"I didn't think that he….the debriefing ended up getting pretty intense and..."

Alan opened his mouth to say something but Don cut him off.  
"I don't want to get into details now, Dad. I just felt like a freak at the circus by the time they were done with me. So after my last interview, I personally delivered my official report to Merrick."

"Did you quit your job, Donnie?"

With a burst of raucous laughter, Don plopped back down on the couch next to his startled father.  
"No. God, no, nothing that elaborate."

He paused to glance up at the woman standing in front of him.  
"Maybe I should have…..but he may end up firing me anyway and I really don't care."

At Alan's confused frown Don elaborated on that last statement.  
"You see, I told him that we were both stupid and irresponsible to think that a field agent like me could have handled this kind of assignment…I wasn't trained for….I may have agreed…hell, I practically volunteered. But this never should have happened. It told him that the next time they needed someone to take on an assignment like this, to look somewhere else and I turned my back on him and walked out. I never even gave him a chance to say anything."

Megan had met Don's gaze and for a moment, they stared at each other while Alan looked back and forth between the two of them.  
"I'm an asshole, Megan."

With a placid smile, Megan shook her head.

"Maybe so, but Merrick read the same report as I did and I'm sure he understood the basis for your outburst."

Don ran his hand over his face and through his hair. Leaning back onto the couch, he turned his head to look at his father.  
"This really is my fault. Here I am ready to rip everyone apart for not telling me what you and Charlie have been through, but I never gave anyone the opportunity _to_ tell me."

Hearing the self-recrimination in Don's voice, seeing the look of guilt and shame shining in his eyes along with the crushing fatigue that had been there all morning was too much for Alan. He had kept his mouth shut from the minute Megan walked through that door. He had managed to contain his own assessment of the situation while he helped Don bandage his busted knuckles. This, however, was too much and it was time to interject.

"Donnie, I couldn't possibly have a lucrative understanding of your anger. You've certainly piqued my curiosity, but you haven't really told me anything that happened to you down there."

"Dad, I..."

Shifting his eyes to the floor, Don started to speak but Alan cut him off.  
"...and I don't expect you to. Not yet...not until you're ready. Megan obviously has details that I don't have, but from what I've heard here...and from what I've seen in your eyes, I do know that you are exhausted beyond reason. You aren't seeing things clearly. You're not at fault for what happened to your brother and you are not at fault for what happened to you."

Don turned his head to look at his father, fully intending to break in, but Alan quickly continued.  
"And neither is Megan...or Colby, or A.D. Merrick. You were doing your job...and so were they. Would knowing about all of this change anything? Three months ago, nothing I could have said would have changed your mind about that assignment."

"But if I had known..."

Megan finally relinquished her position of authority and lowered herself onto the couch next to Alan.   
"You're a good agent, Don...the best. But you're not psychic."

"She's right, Donnie."  
Nodding his head in agreement, Alan turned to look from Megan to his son.  
"There is no reason for you to blame yourself and once you get some rest you'll be able to see that. After all, it's not as if they had any way to get the news about what had happened to Charlie down there to you. Isn't that right, Megan?"

Don allowed the oppressive weight of guilt to lift from his shoulders again as he looked over at Megan. Just as he expected, she did not answer his father's question. Instead, she stood and walked across the room to the small desk in the corner. Alan glanced toward his son to ask the same question silently but Don only shrugged his shoulders as he shook his head and turned his attention back to Megan. The silence that filled the room left Alan with few reservations as to the answer. Still, he repeated the question.  
"Megan? There wasn't any way to contact Don before this assignment was over, was there?"

When she turned to look at him, Megan found herself unable to look the Eppes patriarch in the eye. She shifted her eyes to Don, fully expecting another outburst, but this time he remained seated. She was aware that Don already knew what her answer would be, that was half the reason he harbored so much resentment against them for leaving him in the dark. But she _had_ told him he did not have all the facts and this was where things got complicated. With a deep sigh, Megan perched herself on the edge of the desk.

"Merrick wanted to contact you."

Don sniggered and leaned back into the couch, glaring at her.  
"Sure he did."

"Yes, Don, he did. Charlie's access to highly classified information made his psychological assessment agency business. Merrick was the first one to get a copy of the report on the incident. He thought our evidence against Valdario, at that point, was sufficient and he set up a meeting that same day with the Area Director as well as the head of the DEA. But they disregarded his recommendation that the operation be terminated and his request to pull you out was denied."

Don remained seated, tilting his head at her suspiciously. Alan, however, was on his feet in an instant.  
"What? Megan, why wouldn't you tell me about this?"

"There was nothing _to_ tell you. This was out of our hands."  
She gave him a forthright, appealing look.  
"You have to understand, Alan, the DEA…the FBI...the office of Homeland Security... None of these organizations had ever been able to get a man on the inside of the Valdario cartel. The details are still classified, but I think it's safe to tell you that it was just a stroke of luck when Don bagged one of Valdario's smugglers, a coyote, who was willing to roll on his boss to avoid a prison sentence. We knew it was risky sending that guy back to Colombia to operate as a mole, but that wasn't something we could pass on. Not if it meant getting our man on the inside."

She paused to look at Don as if she expected him to challenge her next statement.  
"I know you felt the same way, Don. You took the assignment."

When he discreetly nodded his head in agreement, she turned back to Alan and continued.  
"Don got in... and he was the only and best chance of getting what we needed to bring that cartel down. I'm not trying to be intentionally tactless, Alan, but Charlie's injuries were marginal when compared with the risk of shutting down our efforts to nail this guy just so Don could be around for moral support."

Don pressed his lips together as he listened to Megan's dissertation. He could see the calculated logic of her argument, but that didn't change the fact that he was angry that the decision had been made for him. He would have been the first one to admit that they had probably made the right choice and he was not entirely sure that he would have abandoned his position had he been told that Charlie was safe and not in any further danger. He had accepted the assignment for a reason, and he was loath to fail in it, but he still felt that the choice should have been his.

Alan had crossed his arms and was looking skeptical as Megan continued.  
"You saw Merrick at the funeral, Alan, as well as the burial service. He'd seen enough of Don's interactions with his family to know that this would be important to him. Walt made a decision at that point that I was not made aware of."

Don widened his eyes and leaned forward on the couch, a smirk playing on the corner of his mouth.  
"Walt? And I thought I was the only guy at the office you were on a first name basis with."

Shifting her eyes at him and forcing a disparaging smile, Megan continued.  
"_Assistant Director Merrick, _who worked closely with your team during your absence, thought the choice should have been yours. He didn't share this with me until almost a week later, but he decided to try to contact you anyway, Don. He arranged for a message to be waiting at the usual location for your information drop, only no one ever showed up."

Don jerked his head up to stare at her, any trace of amusement vanished from his face and he and Alan spoke at the same time.   
"What?"  
"Megan, what are you saying?"

You could have knocked either of the Eppes men over with a feather at that point; but for very different reasons and it was Don who demanded an answer first.

"You are seriously telling me that our Assistant Director, Walter Merrick, risked his job, his career, by going against a direct order from the Area Director? Not only that, but he went against the wishes of God knows how many government organizations just to contact _me_ about my family? Are we talking about the same person, here?"

Their Assistant Director had always been a bit of a hard ass and he and Don had butted heads more than a few times in the past. Still, Don's reaction to the news that Merrick actually possessed an ounce of human compassion after all, almost made Megan laugh.

"Yes, Don. The very same AD Merrick who stepped away from conformity and took a chance when you came to him with this _wild_ idea of using a mathematician to help find a serial rapist, the same guy who pulled the strings it took to get Ian Edgerton down here when you requested him for the sniper case. This very same Merrick who actually listened to your recommendation that a fellow agent be given a second chance after withholding vital information because he felt loyalty to a man who had once saved his life. I know it's hard to believe, but yes, we are actually talking about the same man."

Don shook his head in disbelief. He knew this meant he would have to have a talk to Walter Merrick and apologize for his unfair assumptions about the man's motivations. He should have given him a chance to speak before he jumped to any conclusions. But more than that, he suddenly realized how few questions he had been allowed to ask during his debriefing. It had occurred to him that everything that had happened on the home front coincided almost perfectly with the proceedings that had changed his existence at the compound. He had reported the events with an intricate detail that he did not wish to repeat…not to Megan, not to his father, and certainly not to Charlie. But the missing pieces of his puzzle were falling into place, and Don suddenly _needed_ to ask a question and he hoped Megan would know the answer.

"Carlito?"

Don may have been exhausted and not up to his usual deductive ability, but it was obvious from Megan's expression and the subtle lift of her shoulders that Carlito's whereabouts were a mystery. It had been about a month ago when the man who had been their mole inside the cartel, who had arranged for an undercover agent to infiltrate the compound, Carlito Estrada, had disappeared. Don had been forced to assume that the man's treachery had been discovered and he had either run or been killed. But before he had been able to relay any information to his handler or take any action to secure his own safety, something inside the compound changed; he and all of the other 'gringos' were moved, without warning, from their usual quarters into the estate itself. That was when the beatings had started. The buzz among the rest of the imported laborers told Don that his cover had gone from rock solid to downright diaphanous. They knew there was a spy amongst them…they just didn't know who. They started keeping all of the American workers indoors and away from the fields. Over the next two weeks, their already meager rations were cut so drastically that every imported laborer in the compound began showing signs of malnutrition. At that point, they began locking the 'gringos' up every night in the wine cellar. Each day would begin with a one-on-one session with two of Valdario's personal guards and each day ended the same way. They tried to pit them against each other by telling them that if the spy were revealed, they could go back to the fields and regular rations. At one point, they offered a one-way ticket home, no strings attached, to whoever gave them the name of the man who was delivering information about the cartel to the United States government. Things got worse before they got better and sitting here, now, in his brother's garage, Don knew he was damn lucky that he wasn't one of the men buried in the garden at the Valdario estate. And after what happened with Daniel….but he couldn't think about that right now.

Turning his concentration back to the here and now, Don blocked out the montage of images, sounds and sensations that flooded his mind along with the memories of those last few weeks. According to the timeline, as Don understood it, Carlito had vamoosed around the same time that Merrick had opted to ignore the orders not to contact him. Now Don desperately wanted to know if Carlito had received that message. If their turncoat had believed the operation was going to be scraped and his deal would be null and void, there was a strong possibility that Carlito had fled Colombia on his own accord. That was certainly a better scenario that the alternative…at least for Carlito.

Don lifted his head to ask Megan if they had a BOLO out for Carlito Estrada on the off chance that he had returned to Los Angeles, but his father didn't let him get that far.

"I want to know what you meant when you said 'no one ever showed up'."

Alan had leaned forward on the couch and he turned to look from Megan to his son. The look on Don's face was one of sudden realization but when he saw his father looking at him inquisitively, he turned his face away.

"Things got crazy in there, Dad."

Don stared at the floor for a minute and then lifted his head to look at his father.

"About four weeks ago, the man… our contact disappeared. They started...the guards at the compound were watching everyone closely and I had to assume that my cover had been blown, or was in jeopardy. I couldn't risk trying to meet my handler for the drop and without Car…."

He stopped and turned to look at Megan. With a subtle nod, she agreed that Alan didn't need to know the details about the operation and Don continued.

"Without our contact, I had no way to let anyone know what was going on. It's called 'going dark'. All the Bureau would have known was that I was no longer operating under the normal parameters of the assignment. Something had changed and they had no way of knowing what since I was the only agent operating that closely to the cartel. I wasn't on the grounds anymore, so the spotters couldn't see me. They kept us locked up in the estate most of the time after that and as far as the spotters could tell, I was just gone."

Alan turned to look at Don and furrowed his brow, shaking his head in disbelief.

"They kept you locked up?"

Don met his father's gaze for a moment but quickly looked away. His eyes became troubled... haunted and this change in Don's expression was not lost on Alan. Something had happened to his son at this point. This was when things must have gotten bad. Don had sidestepped talking about what had happened to him down there since he got home this morning and Alan suspected that it was this period of time that was bothering him so much. He turned his head back to look at Megan, saw the sympathy in her face directed at Don, and he knew. His boy had been hurt while he was in Colombia, maybe even tortured.

"Why wasn't I told, Megan? Don is my son. I had a right to know what was happening to him."

The hurt and betrayed look in the older man's eyes cut into Megan's heart and she shook her head sympathetically.

"Alan, I _couldn't_ say anything to you."

"I should have been told."

"I'm not saying I disagree, but Alan, I couldn't tell you. This was a classified operation."

"He's my son..."

Megan clasped her hands in front of her and continued.

"On top of that, we really didn't _know_ what had happened. We _knew_ we hadn't heard from him and we _knew_ no one had spotted him, but we didn't _know_ what Don's status was. The other considerations, for me, even if I went against policy and told you what I knew...well, think about what you and Charlie had been facing. Alan, do you really believe that I, or anyone else on the team, would have come to you at that point with the information that Don may or may not be in trouble and that we may or may not have lost our contact that was supposed to be keeping him safe? Charlie, and I think you too, were in no condition to hear that. Without solid facts to back up why Don had left our radar...I just wasn't prepared to drop that into your laps."

When Alan turned to face her, Megan could see a familiar fire in his eyes and she was struck by how much Don looked like his father when he was angry.

"Look, Megan, I understand what 'classified' means. I do. Nevertheless, if my son was missing, I should have been told about it, classified or not. Maybe Charlie didn't need the extra burden, but Don is my child. He is my son and I would have wanted to know that something had happened...that he was in danger...that he could have been..."

Megan opened her mouth to reply, but Alan cut her off.

"No! I don't want excuses. I don't want to be told that it is classified! What I _do_ want from you, right now, are all the facts. Don is home...we know he's safe now. There's little chance that I might leak information about the investigation and no foreign official is going to see a transcript of _this_ conversation. I want you to tell me exactly what happened! I'm assuming the Bureau made some effort to find out what had happened to Don?"

Megan looked reluctantly at Alan. She knew there was no way to sugar coat the information that he was asking for. Her instinct told her that he didn't need all of the details, but as she turned to look at Don, Megan could see the same questions in his eyes. Putting her better judgment aside, she swept her arm out toward the couch to indicate that they should both take a seat.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

**3 Weeks Ago **

……………………………………………………………………………………………

The calendar may have said Thursday, but it felt like a Monday morning as Megan made her way into the office. She had stopped by the house to check on Alan, Charlie and the baby and she was pleasantly surprised by how quickly Charlie seemed to be recovering from the traumatic events of the past week. He was doing much better since the funeral, but he was still fighting the depression that commonly follows the loss of a loved one. Whenever it seemed to be getting the better of him, the one thing that truly seemed to ground him was Adam. Megan had asked him about this and the reply she got was one she would remember for a long time.

"After getting to know Adam...and Emily too, I have come to the conclusion that children are the universe's great equalizers. They have a unique ability, intrinsic to their natures, that brings everything into perspective. I mean, when everything that could possibly go wrong in the course of a single day does, it all seems so trivial next to the unencumbered love of a child."

As she walked into the bullpen, she realized how much later it was than when she customarily got to the office. Both Colby and David were already at their desks deep in conversation about one of their current cases. They both nodded to her in greeting and she listened to them talking while she put her things away. The case in question involved several occurrences of bank fraud that had the Bureau stumped and Colby was griping about their new math consultant.

"I'm tellin' ya, the whiz kid would have had this thing packed, wrapped and shipped by last week. Man, I miss having him around."

Megan sat at her desk and looked over at Colby as he pouted over the large pile of files related to the case.

"Listen to you complaining, Granger. What did you do in the days before we used mathematicians as consultants?"

David snorted as he pulled himself to his feet and walked around his cubical to Megan's desk.

"Our friend here is spoiled. Charlie was already a part of the team when he came on board….but you have to admit, he _is_ right. This guy is no Charlie."

David indicated the glassed off workspace that Charlie normally occupied. It seemed wrong to see some lesser mathematician writing on _his_ boards, using _his_ space, working with _his_ team. The man standing at the translucent dry erase board had done a fair amount of grumping about the materials he was '_forced'_ to work with. He hated the clear board. He said it made it hard for him to concentrate. But he had already covered the two white boards with his tiny, meticulous script and he had had no choice but to move on to Charlie's preferred medium.

The short list of local mathematicians with the experience and government clearance to work on a case like this was indeed a very short list. Dr. Thaddeus Kiminski was a high-level mathematician from the University of Southern California. He was a middle-aged man with short brown hair, a bland expression on his face and horn rimed glasses. He wore a tweed sport coat with patches on the elbows, a dark gray sweater vest over a plain white shirt and baggy khaki colored slacks. The only thing missing was the bow tie and a personality.

Smiling at the wistful look on the faces of her colleagues, Megan stood and walked over to David's desk where she could get a better look at the man across the hall.

"He may not be Charlie, but he's certainly got the credentials to figure this one out."

David turned and gave her a bleak frown.

"You haven't had the pleasure of working with him yet, Megan.

Nodding in agreement, Colby crossed the floor and stopped next to them.

"This guy has the disposition of a wet string mop."

"He's slow as hell."

David's smile started to bleed through as he continued.

"And he hasn't stopped complaining since we brought him in on this."

"And he doesn't do those little….analogy thingies that Charlie does so we understand what the hell he's talking about."

Megan nodded empathetically at Colby's complaint. Half the reason why Charlie's services were so widely requested among government agencies was his innate ability to treat everyone; even a room full of short-tempered federal agents, like a group of tyronic students. He made things make sense. She knew where they were going with this and

Megan shook her head as she scowled at them chidingly.

"Stop your moaning. You know there's no way I'm asking Charlie to come in here and work on this. He just needs a little more time, guys."

The three agents turned to look at the pseudo Charlie in the center of the bullpen one more time, then turned and headed back across the floor. Colby stopped at Megan's desk and crossed his arms.

"Speaking of which, how's our boy holding up?"

Megan sat back in her chair and looked up at her partners.

"He's actually doing much better than I had thought he would."

"Man, I'll tell ya, if I'd seen that tree fall on those people… I mean it was pretty bad when they pulled Becky Burdick out of that car. They were just doing that when David and I got there. I've seen some ugly things in combat but this was… Lets just say that what Charlie saw was easily as bad as anything I have ever seen in the field."

David nodded in agreement.

"What got me was that little girl. I don't know, Megan. How can Charlie be okay after that? Hell, I'm still trying to figure out how he survived it at all. The house was smashed all to hell and he was inside when that thing came through the roof, _and_ in the living room no less. We got a real good look at the place and the room that Charlie was in was utterly destroyed; it's really a miracle that he made it out of that house in one piece."

Megan picked up one of the files on her desk and started to thumb through it.

"Charlie is a lot tougher than anyone realized. He's going to be just fine. He's got all the support he needs."

"Not really."

Colby spoke under his breath, but Megan heard him all the same. She was going to respond when her phone rang.

"Reeves…

Yes sir, I'll be right there."

She pulled herself to her feet and handed the file to Colby.

"Doctor Kiminski may not be as fast as Charlie and he may bore the hell out of you, Granger. But we still have to get through this work load so let's pretend like it's the olden days when we didn't have annoying mathematicians making our lives easier and just get it done."

With that, she turned and headed for Walter Merrick's office.

As she approached the office of the Assistant Director, a sense of dread started to grow in the pit of Megan's stomach. She suddenly had an unpleasant feeling that she was about to be told that her team leader wasn't coming home. The grave look on the AD's face when she stepped into the room only served to increase her concern. Without a word, he rose to his feet and nodded for her to close the door behind her. Once the door was closed, she didn't wait for him to offer her a seat or to initiate the conversation.

"What's happening with Don?"

Working closely with Merrick for the past few months had created a certain casual repartee between the two of them, but today, he didn't even smile.

"The spotters haven't seen Agent Eppes in just over a week and Carlito Estrada is nowhere to be found."

Megan felt her heart drop.

"That slippery little bastard."

Taking two steps forward, she leaned over Merrick's desk.

"I knew that wasn't going to be enough incentive to keep Estrada from turning on us."

"We don't think he rolled, Reeves."

Giving her a sympathetic look, he sat down heavily and leaned back in his chair.

"The last time either one of them were seen was last Wednesday when the laborers left their quarters."

"The day after the funeral?"

He nodded solemnly and continued.

"What I am about to tell you has to be kept between us, at least for the time being. Do you understand?"

Megan hesitantly nodded her understanding and lowered herself into the black vinyl chair opposite Merrick's desk as he continued.

"After seeing Professor Eppes at the funeral, seeing how much that accident affected him…the look in his eyes… I know how Agent Eppes feels about his family. Hell, they're the reason he gave up running his own office in Albuquerque. So I… He's been making me look good for years and I owe him…. Look Reeves, this isn't something…"

Narrowing her eyes at him, Megan leaned forward in her chair.

"What are you trying to say?"

"I may have made a mistake that could cost me my career and I wanted you to know in case the Area Director….."

She regarded him with suspicion.

"What did you do?"

"I tried to contact Carlito and get a message to Agent Eppes about what was going on with his brother."

Megan's eyes opened wide with shock. That was the absolute last thing she had expected him to say. Walter Merrick had always played by the book. He obeyed all the rules and he was the one who was the division watchdog for the Area Director. The fact that he was willing to place that amount of personal risk on the line for one of his agents was almost beyond inconceivable to her.

"Look Reeves, I never got the chance to get the message to him. Carlito never showed at the drop. That was when the spotters outside of the estate realized that half of the workers in the compound were gone. They've either been removed from the property, or taken inside the actual estate, but we don't know which yet. The only people out in the opium fields are native workers. We haven't been able to get any Intel of substance as to what these changes might mean. Our best guess is that Valdario suspects that someone has infiltrated his operation. We have to assume that he doesn't know who, or when since they've removed so many of their workers. But if this supposition is that with the disappearance of Carlito Estrada…it follows that Valdario believes that the informant is American and that he was shipped in by Estrada."

The blood drained from Megan's face as she listened to this report. If Don's cover had already been blown….if Valdario had pegged Estrada for a traitor…

"We _are_ going to pull him out, right?"

"I know you aren't going to like this, Reeves, but we have to assume that Don's actual cover is not yet compromised. The fact that every American male has been removed from the fields indicates that he is still undiscovered."

Megan felt an upsurge of panic rising in her chest.

"You're damn right I don't like it! We need to get our man out of there!"

"Reeves, the Intel drops that Agent Eppes has been able to provide thus far are good, but there is nothing there that can guarantee a conviction…not for Valdario."

"To hell with a conviction! Don's life is more important than getting this guy…and you know it."

Merrick held up his hands in surrender.

"This decision comes from above me, Agent Reeves. I have already broken protocol by attempting to contact him during a covert operation. Believe me, I am the first one who wants to go down there and get him out. He was never trained to go this far under, and I still don't think he should have been the first choice for this assignment…but Don Eppes is one of the finest field agents this office has seen and I want him back."

Megan could tell that the Assistant Director was not just saying this to placate her. He seemed genuinely afraid for Don's safety, but that did little to quell her own fears. He didn't have the authority to order an emergency extraction, so from here on out, it was in someone else's hands.

"How long do they want to wait?"

Megan leaned back in the chair and stared at him piteously.

"I know it's a joint decision…but they have to realize, Valdario is brutal. If he finds out who Don is, he'll hang him up for every worker to see, and then come after his family. That's what he's done in the past."

Nodding, Merrick released a deep sigh.

"That's mainly why the extraction is being held off."

Megan narrowed her eyes at him inauspiciously as he continued.

"Since there have been no overt displays of retribution, they seem to believe that Agent Eppes' cover is still intact. I strongly disagree, but my opinion on the matter seems to be of little consequence."

"Why?"

"Why do I disagree?"

Megan nodded in silent confirmation.

"Well, Don was one of only four American males shipped via Estrada during the last recruitment and then Estrada has only brought in six others over the last six months. It's a small pool to work from and it is only a matter of time before Agent Eppes is compromised. If they are working under those same assumptions, they _will _figure it out. It's my opinion that we get him out before that happens. But the powers that be have their own agenda."

Megan quickly stood and headed for the door. Her thoughts immediately turned to Alan and Charlie. If anything were to happen to Don…

'_Stop it! I can't think like that.'_

Megan quickly turned to face the desk again.

"So what's the plan?"

Merrick actually looked a little green at that question. She could tell from his expression that he was not happy about the situation and the fact that the decision was no longer solely in his hands was maddening.

"We wait."

Giving him a curt nod, Megan straightened her jacket and turned back toward the door.

"I have to tell the team. They deserve to know what's going on."

"Megan, we _cannot_ afford to have anything leak."

She could hear him stand up behind his desk, and once again she turned back to face him.

"Listen, Reeves, you can tell Granger and Sinclair if you must. But no one else needs to know…_no one else_, and I do mean that. There are a very limited number of people in this building who know where he is right now and it needs to stay that way."

Merrick wiped a hand down his face as he spoke and Megan suddenly realized that he looked exhausted.

"As much as it pains me to say it, Megan, no one; including his family, needs to know about this. Not until we have more information. Besides, the last thing Don's family needs at this point are more worries on top of everything else they're dealing with."

She nodded at him shrewdly and Merrick sat back down and put his elbows on his desk.

"How _is_ Professor Eppes?"

"You know, we go through years of conditioning before we see the kind of violence that he was witness to. Just because it was mother-natures violence doesn't make it any less disturbing."

She turned back to the door and then stopped again with her hand on the knob and spoke without turning around this time.

"I do understand why they can't be told, but I gotta tell ya, if Alan and Charlie find out about this…"

Shaking her head to herself, Megan opened the door without waiting for his response and walked back out into the bullpen.

…………………………….. 

**TBC **


	12. In the Best Regulated Families

**Chapter Twelve: Accidents Will Occur in the Best Regulated Families**

Megan stopped speaking and looked cautiously at her audience. Alan was on his feet and pacing the floor in an almost perfect imitation of his son...just without the overt anger that Don had shown upon her arrival. When he paused and turned back to look at her, she _did_ see anger in his eyes, but the look of betrayal made her feel far worse than anger ever could.

She turned to Don, expecting to see the same accusations of perfidiousness in his eyes. Don, however, was rooted to the couch. With his eyes glued to the floor and shaking his head, he looked as if he were still unable to assimilate all of the information that he had just been given.

"For the sake of all things holy, Megan Reeves, how dare you not tell me about this?"

Before she could respond to Alan's accusatory postulation, Don lifted his head to look at his father and Megan could see a new exhaustion in his eyes as he intervened on her behalf.

"Dad, if I had been here to make that call myself, I wouldn't have done it any differently. Besides, what would you have done if Megan had told you?"

Rather than turn to face him, Alan walked across the room, past Megan, to the chalkboards. He turned to face them both then, and stood there shaking his head.

"I don't really know. I… I suppose I would have wanted to go down there myself, but since I had no idea where 'down there' actually was….and I still don't…"

Alan clasped his hands in front of his chest, took a deep breath and looked directly at Don.

"Donnie, you are my son. This is exactly the same as that night in the emergency room with Charlie. It makes no difference how old you are. You are still my child and I had the right to know that you were in a position that might mean you would never come back to me."

"Why, Dad? So you could worry about _me_ too?"

"That's my right as your father, Donnie."

Turning back to Megan, he repeated that sentiment.

"I had a _right_ to know the truth!"

"I'm sorry, Alan. I completely understand your point of view. I do. Please try to see it from my perspective. Do you remember telling me how much Charlie's reaction to the accident scared you?"

She didn't wait for him to answer before continuing.

"If I had informed you of the situation with Don, do you _really_ think you could have kept that from Charlie? He's far more perceptive than people give him credit for. How do you think that would have affected him? With everything that was happening here, do you really think that either of you needed the added stress and worry?"

Alan nodded his head dramatically.

"I should have been told what was going on!"

"Alan, we really didn't _know_ what was going on."

Megan exhaled loudly as she glanced at Don and then back to his father.

"We weren't sure what had happened. It took almost a week after he went dark for our Colombian spotters to confirm that something had drastically changed on the estate and that Don was no longer visible to them. None of us really _knew_ what to think. We had an emergency extraction plan in place, but we had to be sure that Don had truly been discovered, or at least was suspected, before we were prepared to pull him out. There was just _too much_ at stake."

"Like his life? Wasn't that enough, Megan? Wasn't Don's life enough to make it worth the risk?"

"Alan, Don's life is worth as much to me as my own...if not more. But you can't expect me to..."

Don was sitting with his head hanging low, shaking it slightly as the dispute progressed. When he began to laugh softly, he drew the full attention of both Megan and Alan. Seeing their worried faces at his reaction, he stopped and leaned back on the couch.

"Talk about serendipity."

Megan tilted her head sideways as a soft smile spread across her lips.

"Don, I read your preliminary report and Merrick filled me in on the rest before I came over here...but this may have been a closer shave than you even realized."

"Oh, no. I am well aware of how close I was to..."

He paused to take in his father's shocked expression. Rethinking his words, Don continued.

"I wasn't outside for almost three weeks. They kept us indoors and under very close supervision. But inside the estate, and working so close to the lab, I was able to get the evidence that we needed to really nail Valdario. If whatever happened with Car… our contact hadn't happened, and if Valdario hadn't gotten paranoid about someone being out to get him, I never could have gotten close enough to get the evidence that I did. Once I realized what an opportunity my position had given us, I was actually afraid that they'd send someone to 'rescue' me and botch the whole thing."

"It was a close call on that, Don. Merrick petitioned for it hard. But then, one morning, you were back in the fields again."

Don nodded solemnly, the not so distant memory of the events that lead up to his liberation playing through his mind.

"There was an accident. Some of the other workers were injured and the rains were coming in. They thought they found the mole and so..."

Don stopped, suddenly realizing that he was about to get into a story that he wasn't prepared to disclose to his father. Glancing at Megan and sighing deeply, he backtracked and continued.

"They had to get the crop harvested fast because of the rains, so they pulled those of us that could still..."

Again, he paused; taking in his father's disenchanted gaze, and Don unexpectedly found himself stumbling over his words.

"They...they needed people who could...who were... I was still strong enough to get out there and do the work. That was when I did my last drop and requested a furtive extraction."

He hesitated once more and furrowed his brow, looking uncomfortable. Then, he turned his eyes to Megan again. She nodded subtly, as if acknowledging an unspoken fact, and then Don turned back to his father and shrugged his shoulders.  
"Four days later, I was on a plane."

Alan continued to stare at him as he shook his head in shocked disbelief.  
"How can you two be so calm about this?"

Looking from Megan to Don, he didn't know whom he should be more frustrated with. He was just now being told that his son had been in mortal danger, that his team had feared he had been discovered and possibly even killed, and these two were talking about it as if they were discussing simple facts that needed to be analyzed. Rather than continue to assail Megan with demands as to why he had not been informed, Alan turned to Don and spoke in as calm a voice as he could muster.

"Serendipity? Don, you could have been killed. This is not just another case you're discussing. This is your life...and it could have been the end of it! From the things Megan has said and from the look you're giving me, I'd say that it wouldn't have been a very pleasant ending."

Maintaining the equanimity in his voice and turning to Megan, Alan went on.  
"You said something about this drug lord going after Don's family if he found out who Don was. That fact, right there, is more than enough reason that I should have been told."

When Megan turned away from Alan, Don looked up into her eyes and he bit his lower lip to keep his mouth from falling open. He could read her face and he suddenly knew that there was a whole lot more that Megan needed to tell him. Don shook his head dubiously and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"A close one, huh? Is that what...?"

Megan nodded and Don closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. Then, exhaling loudly, he continued.  
"They didn't... Did they?"

Megan opened her mouth to answer, but Alan spoke first.  
"They? Who? Donnie, what are you two..."

When Megan turned back to him, Alan cut himself off mid sentence. Running her hand through her hair, she turned toward the couch and took a seat next to Don. Raising her eyes to him, Megan shamefully put her hands up to her face.

"I'm really sorry, Alan. This is the reason why we reacted the way we did when you told us about Charlie's phone call. But by the time he got home from the hospital, we knew Don was safe and I didn't..."

Don didn't let her finish.  
"Hospital? Dad..."

He turned to Megan, his eyes blazing.  
"What _the hell_ are you two talking about?"

"It was just an accident, Donnie. Charlie had an infection with a high fever and..."  
Alan paused and glanced at Megan, suddenly unsure as to the validity of his statement.

"It was _just_ an accident, wasn't it? Megan?"

……………………………………………………………………………………………

2 Weeks Ago 

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Standing at the bathroom sink, Charlie looked at his reflection in the mirror. Running his hand across his chin, and the two days of beard stubble that darkened his face, he suddenly realized how dreadful he looked. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, his face splotchy red and his lips were cracked and dry. Somehow, actually seeing that he looked as bad as he felt made him feel even worse.

He had spent the weekend wrestling with what he had thought was some sort of mild flu. When the baby's cries had pulled him from sleep at five am, his hopes of it being a forty-eight hour bug were quickly dashed.

After getting Adam back to sleep and laying him in his crib, Charlie had stumbled to the bathroom in hopes that a shower might wash away the persistent fatigue that had plagued him all weekend. As he turned and reached for the water faucet in the shower, a wave of dizziness sweep over him and spots danced before his eyes. Staggering backward, he leaned heavily against the sink and waited for the wooziness to pass. Turning toward the mirror again, Charlie took one more look into his irritated, puffy eyes.

"Okay, Eppes. You're not going anywhere today."

Longing to stand under a steady stream of cool water, thinking it might actually help him to feel better; Charlie reluctantly turned and left the bathroom. He was supposed to attend three inter-semester curriculum meetings this morning, but this last episode of vertigo had convinced him that he wouldn't be able to stay upright long enough to get through them. Professor Strumper would be less than pleased by Charlie's absence considering that he had essentially missed the bulk of finals week, but the department chair would just have to get over it and deal with the fact that things don't always go as planned.

After calling the main switchboard at the college and leaving messages for Larry, Amita and the department chair himself, Charlie stopped outside of the open door to the newly converted nursery. He could hear Adam's steady breathing and he found himself comparing the deep, healthy breaths of the six month old to his own erratic, staggered breathing. Hoping that Adam's immune system was strong enough to fight off whatever bug his own body had surrendered to, Charlie headed back down the hall to the bathroom. Besides being out of breath, his trek to the phone and back had generated a light sheen of sweat across Charlie's forehead, reinforcing his notion that a cool shower would be just the thing. However, when he reached the bathroom, he was dismayed to find that his father had beaten him to it.

Rather than use the tub downstairs, Charlie resigned himself to wait for the upstairs shower and headed down to the kitchen to get some coffee started. While waiting, out of habit, he pulled open the refrigerator door and as he stood there contemplating breakfast his stomach gave an unexpected lurch. He dashed to the sink, but the wave of nausea passed quickly. Turning on the faucet, Charlie got a handful of cold water from the tap and splashed his face.

"Looks like breakfast is out of the question, too."

Stepping away from the sink and leaning against the counter, Charlie exhaled slowly as a wave of dizziness passed over him. Deciding that today might be a good day to sit in the solarium and let Adam play in his new bouncer seat; Charlie waited for the coffee to finish brewing, then poured two cups and headed back up the stairs with them.

The climb set his head spinning and just as he reached the top of the stairs, his stomach began its second attempt at insurrection. His father's room was the closest, so Charlie stumbled through the door and sat the coffee down on the nightstand. Then he hit his knees next the trash can that Alan kept by his dresser. After a few short moments, he decided it was a false alarm and gingerly pulled himself up on the edge of the bed where he closed his eyes and waited for the nausea to pass.

As Charlie sat on the corner of his father's bedspread, holding his head in his hands, Alan stepped into the room wearing his terrycloth robe. He was towel drying his hair, so he didn't see Charlie sitting there until he was halfway across the room.

"Charlie? What's wrong?"

His father's sudden appearance startled him and Charlie snapped his head up and tried to stand, which sent another wave of vertigo over him, and he wobbled precariously.

"Charlie, you don't look well."

Alan put out his hand for Charlie's forehead, but Charlie steadied himself on his feet and sidestepped his father's probing reach.

"Dad, I'm not a kid. We've talked about that."

Ignoring his father's solicitous glare, Charlie circled around him to the door and leaned out, listening for the baby.

"I just hope Adam doesn't get this thing. I can cope with feeling a little ill, but I can't imagine being six months old and having to deal with this. Besides, I'm not sure I can handle a sick baby."

"Handling a sick child is never easy…...No matter how old they are."

When Charlie didn't retort to the remark, Alan smiled wanly and tossed his towel over the foot of the bed.

"You really do look terrible, Charlie. Your face is a little flushed. Are you running a fever?"

Turning his back to his father, Charlie rubbed his hand over his face and tried to blink away the unrelenting dizziness that continued to afflict him.

"Probably. But I'm okay, Dad."

"Just tell me you're not going to work today."

Still not hearing Adam's voice, announcing that he was awake and hungry, Charlie stepped back into the room and shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm not going to work today."

"Really, Charlie."

It was a statement rather than a question and Charlie smiled when he realized his father thought he was just trying to placate him.

"Dad, I've already called the college and left a message. I'm staying here."

Regaining his equilibrium, Charlie walked past his father, sat down again on the edge of the bed, and reached for one of the mugs he had left on the nightstand.

"I brought you some coffee."

"I see that, and thank you, but what are you going to do about Adam?"

Charlie looked taken aback by the question, so Alan continued.

"You're obviously running a fever, Charlie. You need to get some rest. I would stay, but Stan and I have that meeting on the Reseda Mall project today. We've worked too long and too hard on this for me to dump it in his lap at the last minute."

"No. Dad. I wouldn't expect you to do that."

Furrowing his brow, Charlie looked offended by the proposition that he needed a babysitter as much as Adam did, so Alan threw out another suggestion.

"Can Amita come by to give you a hand?"

A genuine smile spread over Charlie's face at the mention of the raven-haired woman who was quickly becoming a ubiquitous part of his daily schedule.

"Not today. She'll be at the curriculum meetings until late this afternoon. As it stands, Professor Strumper is going to herniate when he finds out that I'm not going to be there. I wouldn't dare ask Amita to join me in my delinquency."

Shrugging his shoulders, Alan stepped into the closet to select a shirt and tie. Charlie remained silent behind him and after a few minutes, Alan turned to glance back at his son. Still perched on the edge of the bed, Charlie was now pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes squeezed shut and looking more like his older brother than Alan had ever noticed before.

An intense feeling of trepidation wrapped itself around Alan's heart and he suddenly felt incredibly hesitant to leave Charlie alone. He didn't want to go through another round with Charlie about unfairly treating him like a child, so Alan forced himself to dismiss his concerns and he turned back to the closet and grabbed the first tie on the rack.

"Today was supposed to be Adam's first day at the campus daycare. Do you still plan on taking him in?"

Charlie opened his eyes slowly and raised his head, seemingly pondering the question; but in reality, the simple act of moving his head had set his stomach rolling again. Swallowing down the nausea, he tried to smile at his father.

"To be honest, Dad, I don't think I should. I'm not sure I trust myself to drive right now. I think we're just going to spend a quiet day here at home."

Relieved that Charlie actually admitted to being too sick to do something, Alan raised his eyebrows at his son and a bemused smile spread across his face.

"A quiet day with an active six month old; you _do_ have high hopes, don't you?"

The woebegone look that overtook Charlie's expression made Alan's smile fade as the undercurrent of anxiety began to trickle through his self-imposed barricade. Circling the bed, he stopped to sit down next to his son.

"Hey...look, I'll come home right after my meeting. All right? Stan will understand if I don't stick around. I have to be there for the morning session with the client but I'm sure he can handle things with the contractor after that. Do you think you can hold out until then?"

In spite of his desire to flat-out deny that he was too sick to take care of himself, Charlie suddenly felt fortunate to have his father as a housemate.

"I'll be fine, Dad. You really should be at the meeting with the contractor. I'm not saying that Stan isn't a capable partner, but you are the one with the city planning background and you know how contractors operate."

It was obvious from Alan's expression that he agreed, but he still looked unconvinced. When he turned to listen for any noise coming from the nursery, Charlie knew it wasn't just him his father was worried about.

"Don't worry about us, Dad. We'll be fine. I mean, there are single parents all over this country and it doesn't matter how sick _they_ are, they still have deal with their children."

Shrugging his shoulders, Charlie carefully pulled himself to his feet. He braced himself for the onslaught of dizziness, but there was none. He looked up at his father and smiled.

"It's just a mild virus. Besides, Adam's not that demanding. I think I can manage for one day."

Convinced of his own words, Charlie picked up his coffee cup and headed past his father to the door.

"I'm going to take a shower, so if you hear a loud thump..."

Charlie turned and grinned at him and Alan laughed in spite of himself.

"Don't you dare pass out in that shower, young man. I just had those ceramic tiles put in two months before you bought this place and you'd probably crack them with that hard head of yours."

Charlie's stab at humor was encouraging, still, Alan followed him into the hall and he watched as Charlie stepped into the nursery to check on the baby. He was very proud of the way that Charlie had dealt with everything that had happened over the course of the last couple of months. Alan had watched a marvelous, yet frightening, transformation take place in his youngest son. Charlie had developed a presence and a maturity that defined him as someone that this child, or any child for that matter, could count on.

And yet, he was hesitant to leave his thirty-something son home alone and for a moment, Alan wondered if he would feel the same way right now even if Adam wasn't a factor.

"If you don't mind listening for the baby, I... …What?"

Charlie stopped short of the bathroom door when Alan heaved a deep sigh.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to be alone. You..."

"Dad."

Charlie gave him a stern look, but his expression quickly softened when he saw the worry that was etched on his father's face.

"How about I promise to call you if I start feeling really lousy?"

"I suppose I can live with that if you can."

Nodding his head, Charlie stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Twenty minutes later, when he opened the door again, Charlie half expected Alan to still be standing there waiting to see if he really was going to pass out. Just as he had anticipated, he felt much better after the shower and by the time Charlie got dressed, he wondered if he had been premature to call in sick for the day. Deciding to give breakfast a shot, Charlie stuck his head in to check on Adam and found the baby was still sleeping soundly. Stopping back by his bedroom to retrieve the receiver of the baby monitor from his nightstand, Charlie clipped the small speaker unit to the front pocket of his jeans and headed down the stairs to the kitchen.

Alan was sitting at the table with a bowl of oatmeal and a plate covered with several pieces of toast. Looking up from his breakfast, Alan gestured to the chair across from him. Charlie nodded in silent response and took a seat, grabbing a piece of toast from the plate.

"Can I get you some oatmeal?"

Charlie took a tentative bite of the toast, stared at the bowl of creamy goop on the table in front of his father and waited for his stomach to flip. The nausea, however, seemed to occur only in direct correlation with the dizziness, which thankfully wasn't an issue at the moment. Still, Charlie decided to forgo risking the hazard of oatmeal.

"I think I'll stick with toast, thanks."

Spooning a glob of the porridge onto his own toast, Alan cocked his head at Charlie.

"Adam is sure sleeping the morning away. I take it he slept through the night?"

Taking a second bite of the toast, Charlie shrugged his shoulders.

"I suppose that depends on what you consider sleeping through the night. He woke up hungry about five. I changed his diaper and gave him a six-ounce bottle and he went back down by six o'clock. If ten o'clock to five in the morning is sleeping through, then yeah, he did."

Glancing at the clock and taking several more big bites and a swig of coffee, Alan stood.

"You've been up since five?"

"About that."

As he circled the table to take his bowl to the sink, Alan called over his shoulder at Charlie.

"You should go take a nap. Sleep when the baby sleeps...that what you're mother always said."

For a moment, Charlie didn't respond. Turning the faucet on, Alan proceeded to rinse his bowl out as he wondered if he had made a mistake by mentioning Margaret.

Then, from the table behind him, Charlie replied softly. "Mom always had things under control, didn't she?"

"Your mother was a wise woman, Charlie."

Turning away from the sink, Alan was surprised to see Charlie smiling at him.

"Then who am I to doubt her methods?"

Walking back toward the table, Alan hesitated. Looking up his father, Charlie took another bite of toast just to prove that he was feeling better.

"I'm going to finish my toast...then I'll take a nap. Go. Build a mall. I'll call if I need to."

After Alan left, Charlie tossed his toast back onto the plate. He wasn't really nauseated, not like before, but he still just didn't feel like eating. Deciding to take the idea of 'starving the flu' seriously, Charlie headed into the living room and took a seat on the couch. He didn't remember dozing off, but what only seemed like seconds later he lifted his head from where it had drooped onto his shoulder and opened his eyes. The angry verbalizations of a wet and hungry baby were coming through the speaker on the monitor, which was still clipped to his front pocket.

Hauling himself to his feet, Charlie quickly made his way up the steps. About halfway up the staircase, he became aware of a dull throbbing in his temples and by the time he reached the nursery, he could actually hear his racing heartbeat in his ears. Adam's tempestuous cries stopped the minute Charlie walked into the room. The six month old had pulled himself up into a standing position at the side of the crib and he let go of the side, plopping backwards onto his posterior as he reached up for Charlie with both hands.

"Hey there, Little Buddy. What do you say we get you up and dressed, huh?"

Adam replied with a squeal of delight that provoked an instant somatic sensation of discomfort that felt like a spike being driven through the center of Charlie's forehead and he winced in pain as he leaned over to pick up the baby.

"I don't think I'm going to make very good company today, Adam. My head is..."

A wave of dizziness cut him off mid sentence and Charlie almost staggered into the crib as he lifted Adam into his arms.

"Well, this is going to be an interesting day, isn't it?"

Waiting a moment for the vertigo to pass, Charlie carefully walked over to the changing table. Adam immediately went about his usual business of flipping onto his belly and trying to crawl away.

"Today may not be the best day for this game, Adam."

With one hand grasping Adam's ankle, Charlie reached into the top side drawer of the changing table and pulled out two diapers. Flipping Adam over onto his back, Charlie handed one of the diapers to the squirming baby.

"Here, play with this."

Finding new ways to keep Adam distracted during the ritual diaper change was becoming more and more of challenge and if his head hadn't been pounding, Charlie might have laughed as Adam made every effort to pull the diaper apart. Simply grateful to avoid a wrestling match, Charlie went about changing the soiled diaper.

Reaching into the top drawer underneath the main portion of the changing table, Charlie pulled out a pair of socks. Adam noticed that he was no longer playing with a diaper, so he threw the one he had been playing with up over his head and reached for the socks. Charlie handed the socks over to the baby and reached into the drawer for another pair as Adam stuffed a sock into his mouth. The second drawer held the pants and shirts, but when Charlie leaned over to select an outfit, he was hit with another undulation of vertigo so he reached blindly into the drawer and grabbed what was on top. Adam got bored with the socks before Charlie finished dressing him and about halfway through pulling on the child's pants, Adam decided to roll over again. Standing him up on the edge of the changing table, Charlie tugged the sweatpants the rest of the way over the bulky diaper.

Looking over the smiling baby in front of him, Charlie laughed in spite of his headache. Adam's pants were dark blue with green stripes and the shirt he had selected was bright yellow with a pattern of rubber ducks across the middle. And the socks he had ended up with were red.

With a sigh, Charlie picked Adam up.  
"Well, it's not like we're going anywhere important, right?"

Adam grinned in silent response as Charlie headed for the stairs.

As he reached for the banister, Charlie began to feel lightheaded again and he stopped to lean against the wall. His fever had abated slightly after his shower but when Adam's cool hands touched his face, Charlie could tell he was, once again, running a fever.

"Lee Lee, ba ba?"

Charlie smiled at Adam and took a firm hold of the railing before starting down the stairs. "No bottle, Adam. How about peaches? You like peaches."

Adam frowned at him.

"Ba ba."

Walking into the kitchen, Charlie sighed as he put Adam into his highchair and buckled him in.

"No bottles for breakfast, Adam. Cereal."

Screwing up his face, as if he understood every word Charlie had said, Adam's lower lip began to tremble. Turning to the cabinet, Charlie removed a box of teething biscuits and handed one to Adam.

"Here. This will make you forget the 'B' word."

Adam crammed the biscuit into his mouth and began to gnaw on the edge of it. He had started teething a few weeks ago and he had already gotten his four front teeth, both top and bottom. With the cookie-like biscuit to keep him distracted, Charlie was able to prepare a bowl of baby cereal. Opening a small jar of pureed peaches, Charlie sat down next to the high chair.

"I think it may be time to give up the jarred food, Adam. With those choppers, you'll be tearing up bacon and eggs in no time."

As Charlie fed the baby his breakfast, he started to feel more and more listless as if his energy level was directly proportional and oppositely polarized to Adam's. The baby laughed delightedly as Charlie tried to aim the spoon into his mouth, while avoiding the groping hands that wanted to hold the utensil. Adam ended up wearing more of his breakfast than he managed to eat and before long, Charlie gave up and let him have the spoon.

When he stood up to get a washcloth, so he could clean Adam up, such a strong wave of vertigo came over him that Charlie was forced to drop to his hands and knees. The corners of his vision blurred and for a few minutes, Charlie honestly thought he was going to pass out. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears as his head throbbed mercilessly in time to the beating of his heart.

"Lee lee?"

Charlie lifted his head to see Adam looking down at him over the edge of his highchair.

A moment later, the spoon came flying over the edge and landed on the floor in front of him.

"Ba ba!"

Taking several deep breaths, Charlie carefully got to his feet.

"Okay, you talked me into it."

Moving slowly to the sink, using the counter for support, Charlie made up a bottle and got a wet washcloth before making his way back to the highchair. With a mounting respect for single parents all over the world, Charlie began to feel very uneasy about being alone in the house with Adam while he was this ill. As he cleaned the cereal and peaches out of Adam's curly blond hair, Charlie contemplated calling his father for backup.

Alan hadn't been kidding when he'd talked about how long and hard he and Stan had worked on getting the Reseda Mall project. With the events of the past month, his father had already missed a few meetings with this client because of him and Charlie couldn't see calling him away just because he was feeling under the weather.

Deciding that he would just make a point not to stand up too quickly or climb the stairs unless it was absolutely necessary, Charlie took Adam out of the highchair and grabbed the bottle, heading for the living room. Lowering himself onto the couch, Charlie positioned the squirming child in the crook of his arm to give him the bottle. As Adam settled down to drink, Charlie rested his head against the couch cushion behind him and closed his eyes. He had no intention of going to sleep again, but his body made the decision for him.

Waking with a start, Charlie's heart began to race wildly when he realized that Adam was no longer in his arms. He sat up quickly, which caused his head to spin and his vision began to blur. He lurched forward off the couch intending to stand, but he found himself on his knees instead. Panic swept over him making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

'_Oh God! What have I done?'_

"Adam!"

Charlie felt his heart pounding in his chest and the now unrelenting dizziness threatened to keep him down. Ignoring his body's insistence that he shouldn't move, Charlie shakily pulled himself to his feet and looked hurriedly around the living room. He had to find the baby. The bottle lay forgotten on the floor next to the couch and single red sock lay next to it. Involuntarily, Charlie started to breathe in short, staccato gasps.

"Adam! Adam where are you?"

He was almost prepared to call 9-1-1 to report a missing child, when he heard a squeal from upstairs. Charlie took off at a dead run, ignoring the dizziness and nausea that tried to stop him. He didn't remember taking the stairs two at a time, and he suddenly found himself standing at the top of the staircase breathing heavily and shaking all over, his pulse pounding in his ears like a bass drum. Somehow, through the internal noise racketing off his skull, he heard a giggle from the end of the hall.

Staggering into the nursery, Charlie found Adam sitting on the floor in the middle of the sunlit room, successfully ripping apart the diaper that he had tossed on the floor earlier that morning. Bombarded with an overwhelming sense of relief, Charlie dropped to his knees and gathered the baby into his arms as the surge of adrenaline that had gotten him up the stairs began to slowly drain off.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry."

Charlie stayed on his knees, rocking Adam back and forth, as he tried to calm himself down. Being restrained did not sit well with Adam and he quickly became distressed, wiggling, and squirming until Charlie released him. The baby stood for a moment on his own before he plopped down on his rump.

"How did you get up here? You haven't been crawling long enough to climb the stairs."

Adam slapped his thighs and laughed.

"Well, I guess you have...since you made it up here. You scared the daylights out of me, you know that?"

Adam laughed again and held up the tattered remains of the diaper. He leaned forward, trying to hand it to Charlie.

"Let me guess, you need a clean diaper?"

Charlie took Adam into his arms again and he could see immediately that a fresh diaper was definitely in order. Pulling himself to his feet, while still holding Adam, re-amplified the pounding in Charlie's head and he lowered himself back to the floor. Reaching up into the drawer on the changing table, Charlie pulled out a clean diaper.

"Maybe we should keep this operation close to the ground this time."

Pulling a baby blanket out of the bottom drawer, Charlie sat it on the floor and laid Adam across it on his back. Adam's pants were soaked in the front, so he took them off and tossed them across the room, but he missed the laundry hamper by a good two feet. The simple exertion of raising his arm over his head had set his heart racing again and Charlie squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He quickly opened them again when Adam tried to roll himself over.

"Not yet."

His own voice sounded weak and distant in his ears and when he maneuvered the baby back onto the blanket and began to change his diaper, Charlie could feel his shoulders trembling. Fastening the tabs on the sides of the diaper around Adam's middle, Charlie released him. From his spot on the floor, Charlie opened the middle drawer on the changing table and pulled out a clean pair of pants. Adam grabbed the pants, which were bright red, from Charlie's hand and threw them down on the floor with gusto.

"Okay, no red."

Reaching back into the drawer, Charlie pulled out the two remaining pair of clean pants and offered them the curious baby. Adam squealed with glee and reached for the black pair of pants. Rather than throw them to the floor, he dropped them back into Charlie's hand. Moving on to the other pair of pants, which were blue, Adam threw them straight up into the air over his head.

"Black it is."

Charlie laid Adam back down on the blanket and slipped the pants over his clean diaper.

"At least you match now."

Pulling off the red sock that remained on Adam's left foot, Charlie decided he would have to go out immediately and buy a gate for the bottom of the stairs. He really didn't think they had needed one. After all, Adam's aunt and uncle would be coming to get him at some point, although that seemed less and less likely each time he asked Colby for an update on the situation that had detained them. But it wasn't as if he was ever alone anywhere in the house without adult supervision. Still, today's incident had convinced him that Adam's newfound mobility made a gate essential. The thought of Adam falling all the way down those stairs put a tight knot in his stomach.

"Some guardian I turned out to be, huh? Falling asleep on the job."

Pulling himself slowly to his feet, Charlie leaned over and picked the baby up. He was halfway down the hall before he realized that he was going to need a diaper change in a minute too if he didn't hurry. Hoping that the bathroom floor wasn't too dirty, Charlie sat Adam down on the tile so he could use the facilities. The cool tile floor on his bare feet sent chills across his body and Charlie suddenly realized how hot he felt. When he moved to wash his hands, he looked in the mirror and saw that his skin was no longer a blotchy pink, as it had been that morning. Now, he was fully flushed with fever. His cheeks and forehead, even his ears, were a bright shade of scarlet.

Looking into the medicine cabinet over the sink, Charlie grabbed the unopened ear thermometer that his father had purchased for the baby and staggered back to the toilet. He lowered the lid and took a seat on the cool ceramic while he opened the package.

As he took his temperature, Charlie lifted his eyes to check on Adam, who was sitting quietly by the closed door, investigating the ducks that adorned the front of his shirt. When the thermometer beeped in his ear, Charlie was shocked to see 104.3 on the digital LED.

"Oh, shit."

The words were out of his mouth before he realized he had said them and he immediately looked to Adam, feeling like an ass for letting the obscenity slip in the presence of the child.

"Sorry. I guess that explains why I'm so lightheaded."

Adam looked up from the rubber duckies on his shirt and grinned, then began to garble in a strand of unintelligible syllables.

Charlie shuffled to the door and bent down to pick up the baby. When he stood up, an array of black dots danced across his eyes and he staggered back against the wall.

"I think it's time to call for backup, kiddo."

They made it about halfway down the stairs when Charlie had to sit down. The edges of his vision had begun to blur and things seemed to lose their luminosity, as the stairway grew fuzzy. For a moment, Charlie was sure that he was going to pass out and he clutched Adam close to his chest while he held tight to the railing with his other hand in a white knuckled grip. Squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to lessen the sensation of vertigo, he remained on his rear-end and slipped down the stairs slowly, one at a time.

When they reached the bottom of the steps, Charlie had to rest his head against the wall as wave after wave of dizziness and nausea crashed over him. His vision remained fuzzy and suddenly his arms felt too shaky and weak to hold onto Adam. When he felt bile rising in his throat, he allowed the baby to wiggle out of his arms, and Adam crawled away from him toward the living room. Since he was now physically blocking the stairs with his body, Charlie let the baby move away while he tried to resist the urge to vomit. He was about to give up the fight and look for something to throw up in, when the sound of a loud crash and Adam's screams brought Charlie to his feet. He took two steps and his knees buckled, but he grabbed the edge of a shelf to keep himself upright.

The lamp on the end table, next to one of the recliners, was on the floor. It had broken into several large pieces along with shattered remains of a decorative vase that had been half filled with multicolored marbles. Sitting in the middle of the destruction was Adam, screaming at the top of his lungs. When Adam saw Charlie in the entryway, he released the cord to the lamp, which had been tightly clutched in his chubby little fist and leaned over to crawl toward him. When Charlie rushed forward to grab the baby before he could cut himself on any of the glass that surrounded him, he stepped directly on a two-inch thick ceramic shard from the broken lamp, embedding it into the sole of his foot. He barely noticed the injury; his fever addled, panic ridden brain choosing to ignore the sensation of pain.

Snatching Adam up from the floor, Charlie began to check him over for injuries. As he stepped away from the wreckage, holding Adam out in front of him, he felt so lightheaded that he had difficulty keeping his balance. With each step, he was leaving a smudge of blood on the hardwood floor as he drove the chunk of ceramic further into the sole of his foot. Sitting down on the coffee table, he ran his hands over Adam's entire head looking for bumps or cuts. Apparently, the lamp and the vase had missed him completely, but that did nothing to alleviate the intense fear that was running through Charlie's veins. He knew with clearheaded certainty that his father had been right to be hesitant about leaving him alone with Adam today.

Looking around for the phone and seeing it in the middle of the dining room table, Charlie pulled himself to his feet. The sensation of standing in something wet prompted him to look down at the floor and Charlie was shocked to see that he was standing in some sort of small puddle. It took him a moment to realize it was a puddle of blood; his blood. Only then did he really feel the pain in his foot and he lowered himself back down to the coffee table. Shifting the baby to his hip, he crossed his right leg over the top of his knee. Seeing the fragment of ceramic protruding from his foot, he instinctively reached down with his left hand to pull it out. He swallowed hard as he extracted the large chunk of bloody ceramic.

"Oh, God."

The removal of the glass allowed the wound to bleed more profusely and the sight of his own blood dripping off his foot and splashing into the puddle on the hardwood floor only served to increase the lightheaded sensation that was ebbing away at his cognizant thoughts. He knew he needed help and he needed it now. Adam was still fussing in his arms when Charlie stood up. Walking on his right heel with the baby propped on his left hip, he hobbled over to the dining room table, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

Grabbing the phone, another wave of dizziness hit him like a freight train and Charlie suddenly realized it wasn't safe for him to be holding Adam right now. As he limped back across the room to the playpen, he hit his father's cell phone number on the speed dial. Cradling the phone between his ear and his shoulder, Charlie took Adam in both hands just as his father answered.

"Charlie? Is everything all right?"

"Dad, I need help."

He bent down to put Adam in his playpen and the baby began to howl. His fear from the incident with the lamp had not subsided and he wanted the comfort of the arms that had been holding him. Charlie hesitated, suddenly feeling very confused about why he was not supposed to be holding Adam. Leaning against the edge of the playpen, Charlie turned to look at the broken lamp and pieces of glass that were spread across the floor.

"It's not safe, Dad… Adam's not safe."

Dizzy and disoriented, Charlie touched Adam apologetically on the head, and moved to grab the phone with his hand as he stood back up. A rhythmic pounding began somewhere inside his head as black dots formed in front of his eyes and his vision began to dim. As he started to stagger backward, he gripped the phone with his right hand as if it were the tether that he needed to remain upright and conscious. The pounding of his pulse in his head became loud enough to drown out coherent thought, yet he could still hear his father's voice coming from the phone.

"Charlie? What are you talking about? What do you mean, Adam's not safe?"

His father's voice seemed to be getting farther and farther away. He wanted to find a way to bring that voice back to where he could hear it again. He needed the voice to stay. He needed his father to come home.

"Dad…..think…I'm.…in…..trouble..."

Charlie never even realized that he was no longer standing. The room simply disappeared as his vision went dark and a brief sensation of floating encompassed him as he collapsed backward. Striking is head on the edge of the coffee table, Charlie's body seemed to bounce as he hit the floor, the phone still clutched in his hand. Alan's frantic voice continued to call out from the receiver.

Charlie didn't hear him. Nor did he hear Adam as the baby began screaming.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Megan's cell phone chirped at her waist and when she saw the name that popped up on the LCD, she answered cheerfully.  
"Hello, Alan."

As soon as the man on the other end on the line began speaking, Megan bolted to her feet and snapped her fingers several times to get the attention of her team.

"Alan, calm down. Tell me exactly what Charlie said."

When Megan grabbed her shoulder holster and slipped it on, David and Colby were instantly up and moving.

"Was he calling from the house?"

Grabbing her jacket, she moved toward the elevator with the other two agents right behind her.

"No. We can be there in twenty minutes."

David rushed up beside her and put out his hand for the keys, which Megan handed over.

"Make that fifteen. I'll call you as soon as we get there."

The elevator door slid open and Megan snapped her phone shut as they stepped aboard.

"Charlie just called his father. He said that Adam wasn't safe and that he needed help. Then Alan heard a crash and the baby screaming."

David and Colby exchanged a worried glance as the elevator began to descend. After her meeting with Merrick, Megan had filled them in on the situation with Don and they both knew as well as she did that if this was what they feared, Charlie was as good as dead. Valdario was not a merciful man and if he had identified Don as a federal agent and sent someone after Charlie, they had to assume that Don was dead already.

It only took seconds for the elevator to descend to the ground floor of the garage and without a word; they ran for the nondescript dark suburban that Megan drove. With David behind the wheel, it took fourteen minutes and forty-two seconds to get from the FBI office in downtown Los Angeles to the Eppes family home in Pasadena.

They were out of the vehicle almost before it had stopped moving. Pausing to make eye contact with her teammates, Megan motioned for Colby to circle around back, while she and David took the front. Nodding in affirmation, all three agents drew their guns and cautiously approached the house.

Stepping up onto the front porch, Megan stepped to the right of the door and put her back up against the frame. David did the same on the left, taking an extra step back to peer inside through the bay window. The sheer draperies that covered the window made it difficult to see in, and David had to lift his hand to the side of his face to block out the sun's glare before he could make out the shape of Charlie's body lying on the floor.

"He's down, Megan."

As if to reinforce David's statement, the blood-curdling wail of a frightened child cut through the air followed by a crash as Colby busted through the back door of the house.

Turning back to the solid front door of the historic Craftsman house, with the double deadbolts and chain that they knew was there, Megan and David exchanged a glance before David picked up a flowerpot and busted out the central pane in the bay window. The sound of shattering glass amalgamated with the hysterical wail coming from the living room and Megan felt a chill run down her spine. David used his gun to knock the rest of the glass off the edge of the window frame before he pulled himself through. Megan climbed in after him just as Colby stepped in through the kitchen door and for a moment, they stood in the front of the room staring at the chaos that lay before them. In addition to the broken lamp and vase, a crisscrossed trail of blood covered the polished hardwood floor. The condition of the living room lead them all to believe that a struggle had taken place in the room and the crumpled body of their friend and colleague backed up their supposition.

David quickly moved over to where Charlie lay and knelt down next to him to feel for a pulse.

"He's alive."

His voice was a hoarse whisper that Megan could barely hear over the sound of Adam's continuing screams and it took her a minute to find her own voice.

"Stay with him."

She and Colby moved through the rest of the ground floor with speed and proficiency. Finding no intruders, they approached the staircase with utmost caution. Communicating with hand signals, the two agents climbed the stairs stealthily. Minutes later, they descended and Megan rushed back to the living room where David remained next to Charlie.

"The house is clear. Whoever did this is gone now."

Kneeling on the other side of Charlie's body, Megan gave David a questioning look.

"How is he?"

"His pulse is racing. But I can't figure out where all this blood came from."

Walking around the couch, past the other two agents, Colby holstered his weapon and leaned into the playpen to pick up the screaming baby. There was a pause in Adam's cries as he stopped to gawk at the unfamiliar man who had picked him up.

"Lee leeeeeeeeee."

The call tapered off into mournful wail and he began to struggle, reaching his tiny arms out toward the unconscious man on the floor.

Megan stood, stepping over Charlie's still form, and took the baby from Colby's arms.

"He doesn't know you, Granger. Don't take it personal."

"I've already called a code three. An ambulance is on its way. But..."

David remained kneeling at Charlie's side, looking confused.

"...He's hot, Megan; really hot. He's got a hell of fever. The back of his head is bloody and so is the edge of the coffee table, but..."

"Whoa."

Colby stepped forward and knelt on the floor next to Charlie's right foot, which was still openly seeping blood.

"Somebody hand me a..."

He looked around the room and pointed to a baby blanket, which had been tossed over the back of a chair.

"Hand me that."

Megan grabbed the cloth and tossed it at him and Colby quickly wrapped it around Charlie's bleeding foot. Looking up at her, he shook his head skeptically.

"This doesn't feel like a retribution hit. Valdario's men would have finished him before they left, the baby too...even if we _were_ breaking down the doors."

Still looking Charlie over for further injury, David lifted his head and looked from Megan to Colby.

"Why would someone just attack him and leave?"

Megan was holding Adam tightly against her chest and bouncing up and down in place, while she made shushing sounds in an effort to quite his cries as she studied the scene in the living room. The only disturbance they had found in the house was right in front of her. The rest of the house was in perfect order, with the exception of a shredded diaper in the middle of the nursery floor and a pair of pants that didn't make it into the hamper. Even the front door was locked from the inside.

As if reading her mind, Colby stood and stepped over to the doorway, clicking both deadbolts to unlock the door.

"The back door was locked from the inside, too. I had to break it down to get in."

Megan nodded and moved back over to look at the bloody edge of the coffee table.

"I don't think he was attacked."

David had kept his hand on Charlie's neck to monitor his pulse and he looked up at her and nodded his head in agreement.

"He's burning up with fever."

"Passed out?"

"Or had a seizure."

Tipping his head toward the edge of the coffee table, he continued.

"Either way, I think he fell and hit his head. Maybe he didn't think he should be alone with the baby and that's why he called Alan."

A low moan from Charlie brought their attention to the floor. David took his hand off Charlie's neck and rested it lightly on his shoulder.

"Hey, Charlie, can you hear me, man?"

Charlie cracked open his eyes and raised his hands to the sides of his head. He winced, squeezing his eyes shut again before he rolled onto his side and threw up. Raising his head, Charlie tried to speak but instead he continued to wretch pathetically for several minutes. Once the heaving stopped, he managed to choke out one word.

"Adam."

"He's fine, Charlie."

Megan stepped closer and shifted Adam from her shoulder onto her hip.

"I've got him right here."

The wail of a siren wafted in from the broken window and Colby stepped toward the door and called out over his shoulder. "Just relax, Charlie. The ambulance is here. You're going to be okay."

"Can you tell me what happened, Charlie?"

Charlie lifted his head up and opened his eyes to look at David, but he never answered him. Instead, he shifted his gaze to where Megan stood at the end of the couch holding Adam.

"…didn't like red…but he can climb stairs…."

With those words, Charlie's eyes rolled up and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

**……………………………………………………………………………………………**

**TBC**

_A/N – We apologize for the delays between chapters, but the real world has spent the last three weeks attempting to kill me, while Alice has been patiently waiting for me to finish my part of this chapter. Needless to say, I am still alive and you just read chapter twelve. Thirteen is in the works, which contains the much anticipated reunion between the brothers Eppes. The holiday may slow us down, but know that we are diligently working to keep these chapters coming. Please leave a comment if you stop by for a visit. We always love to hear what you think!_

_Happy Holidays! Joyeux Noël! Feliz Navidad!_

_dHALL_

**_OA/N – Ho Ho Ho. Tis the season to be crazy – Crazy busy especially with small children to take care of. Along with dHALL I wish you all Happy Holidays and thank you for your patience during this time of year when so many other things pulling our attention away from our passion of writing. Chapter 14 will be worth the wait because the boys finally get to see each other.  
We greatly appreciate your sticking with us and look forward to all of your comments so drop a little treat into our virtual stocking and have a Wonderful Holiday Season!_**

**_Alice I_**


	13. There's No Place Like Home

Chapter Thirteen: There's No Place Like Home 

Inhaling deeply, Don leaned back into the couch and ran his hand through his almost shoulder length hair. Blowing the air slowly out of his lungs, he turned his eyes to the ceiling.

"How bad was he?"

When no one answered, Don lifted his head and looked to his father.  
"Dad?"

Making eye contact with his son, Alan shook his head and smiled in a reassuring, albeit hesitant, manner.  
"He's fine _now_, Donnie."

Furrowing his brow, Don shook his head.  
"Yeah...okay. But that's not what I'm asking you."

Leaning forward, he gave his father an earnest look.  
"You said he had an infection and a fever?"

Alan nodded silently and Don shook his head and exhaled in exasperation.  
"Well?"

"There's no sense in dwelling on it now, Donnie. He..."

"DAD!"

His outburst stopped Alan cold, and Don took another deep breath, lowering his voice in an effort to mask his exasperation.  
"I'm not going to 'dwell' on anything. But I _do _want to know how this happened."

He turned to look at Megan, his eyes asking a half a dozen questions that he couldn't ask out loud, or in front of his father. Concern that Valdario really might have had something to do with this incident had wormed its way into his mind and Don felt the need to be absolutely certain that this really _was _just an accident. As illogical as the idea was, Don couldn't bear the thought that his family had been put in danger because of this assignment. After a moment he was able to find the words to voice his uneasiness.

"He was delirious, right? How do you _know _exactly what happened? Are you sure………"

Megan wasn't expecting a reaction of irrational fear from the seasoned federal agent, and the question caught her off guard.  
"They never got anything out of you, did they?"

"No."  
Don shook his head quickly in adamant denial.  
"No. Don't you think I would have mentioned that in my debriefing? I never told them anything. They thought..."

He stopped suddenly and turned to glance at his father, who was staring at him with an expression of intense trepidation. Turning back to Megan, he continued in an earnest, almost desperate, tone.

"I _never _broke cover, Megan. Even when they..."

Again, he stopped. Sighing, Don rubbed his hand over his face. He didn't want to go back over the details of his ordeal, not now and not in front of his father. The cumulative exhaustion from the nightmare that had been his life for the past few months was slowly ebbing away at his grasp on reason and rationally. He knew that his team would have taken in every possibility. If Megan said it had been an accident, then it was just an accident. As if she could sense what he needed to hear, Megan smiled reassuringly.

"Don, Charlie told us everything he remembered and we pieced the rest of it together. And there was little doubt that he was extremely ill. By the time we got to the hospital his fever was holding at one-o-six."

"It was a staph infection from the..."  
Alan gestured at his side.  
"…from where he had those stitches. If he'd just gone back to the doctor like I told him to…."

With a scoffing laugh, Don sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.  
"Yeah, and I'll bet a nice 'I told you so' from his father made him feel a whole lot better."

Alan turned his head and he stared at him contemptuously.  
"Don, I'm not going to sit here and allow you to talk to me this way. You're not acting like yourself and until you get some sleep……"

Rolling his eyes, Don exhaled loudly and tilted his head back against the couch again.  
"I'm sorry...I…"

Crossing his arms defensively, Alan kept talking.  
"I'm trying to ignore it, Don. But you need to step back before you say or do something that you are going to regret."

"I said, I'm sorry, Dad."  
Lifting his head again, Don pulled himself to his feet and crossed the room.  
"It was uncalled for, okay? I shouldn't have….I'm just trying….I just...I mean…"

He stopped in front of the chalkboard to consider the futility of defending his boorish behavior, but Alan didn't wait for him.  
"I know you've been through hell, Donnie. I do. But it's okay, now."

Don swallowed hard and turned to face his father.  
"Can things just….be okay? I mean, when does it all end?"

Alan smiled as he shrugged his shoulders.  
"You're home, Charlie is home. And you're both alive. That's all I need to know."

Nodding conclusively, he continued.  
"I didn't want you to fixate on the details, Don, but to answer your first question; they had Charlie on IV antibiotics for almost four days before he kicked the fever. Seven stitches in the back of his head from where he hit the edge of the coffee table, and four more in the bottom of his foot. He was in the hospital for over a week recovering from this."

Rubbing the heel of his hand on his forehead, Don squeezed his eyes shut for moment.  
"Wow."

From her seat on the couch, Megan nodded solemnly.  
"Yeah, he was pretty sick, Don."

Looking at Megan apprehensively, Don put his hands in his pockets.  
"Sepsis?"

She shook her head.  
"It wasn't as bad as it could have been. The infection _was_ in his blood, but it was recognized early for what it was and they were able to treat it aggressively."

"That's right. The doctor said that in the grand scheme of things, we got pretty lucky."

Alan turned and gave Megan an appreciative smile.  
"And if Charlie hadn't gotten medical attention when he did..."

Don finished the sentence for him.  
"He could have died."

Megan and Alan exchanged a glance and they both nodded silently. Don looked from her to his father and suddenly felt like he had failed to grasp some important fact.  
"But he's fine, right?"

Megan gave him a thin smile and nodded her head as Alan answered aloud.  
"He will be. We're still monitoring his symptoms from the concussion."

"From the coffee table?"

"Right. There was some minor swelling in his brain, but..."

Don stopped in his tracks and he felt his mouth fall open at the blasé way his father had disclosed that information. Don knew he must have also turned several shades paler, because Alan stopped speaking and quickly stood, crossing the room to stand by his side.

"Donnie, your brother _is _fine. It scared me half to death when they told me that, and the doctor _was _worried about long-term effects from multiple blows to the head over such a short period of time. But Charlie's tests all came back clean. We're just supposed to stay on the look out for changes in behavior, dizziness, blackouts….that sort of thing. And he has an appointment with a neurologist next week for a follow up."

Megan nodded as she pulled herself to her feet as well.  
"He's only been home for a few days, but so far he hasn't shown any lasting effects from the concussion, Don."

"Are you sure? Charlie can hide things."  
Turning to Alan, Don looked apprehensive.  
"Dad, Charlie feels responsible for taking care of this baby. He had to rely on you, and others, while he was in the hospital, right? So now that he's home, if he's having headaches or dizziness…are you sure he would tell you about it?"

Alan looked at him uncertainly. Perhaps Don had a point. Charlie could be just as stubborn as his brother and if he were experiencing any of those side effects from the head injury he might _not _say anything.

Never in a million years would Alan have thought that his youngest would have been able to bottle up his grief the way he did for the sake of caring for that child, so it wasn't an impossibility that he could be doing the same thing with his health.

They could both see the doubt enter the older man's eyes and Megan gave Don a punitive glance.  
"Okay, fellas, lets not borrow trouble. Don, you couldn't possibly believe that Charlie would take chances with his health. Not after everything that has happened."

Without offering a response, Don turned away and walked toward the door leading outside. Megan was right. Charlie _was_ a genius, after all. Before his life had been turned upside down, he had been working tirelessly on explaining the inner workings of the brain. Would he really put himself, his own cognitive ability, on the line for anything as trivial as pride? Or even caring for this child? Stepping through the door and out into the bright morning sun, Don closed his eyes and turned his face up toward the sky. The warmth of the summer sun permeated his being and for the first time since he had arrived home, he actually felt a sense of tranquility. Megan was right. And so was his father. They were both alive, and they were home. He was home.

Opening his eyes, Don slowly wondered into the yard, almost forgetting that he had left his father and Megan standing in the garage until a light touch on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. Turning his head he looked into Megan's worried eyes.

"Are you all right?"

Don smiled at her, but shook his head despairingly, almost unsure how to answer the question.  
"You tell me, Megan. You said you read my report, right?"

"Don…"

Megan was looking at him with empathetic eyes as he continued.  
"And you've been right here through everything that has happened with Charlie….to Charlie. It hasn't exactly been a banner year for the Eppes family, has it?"

A benevolent smile spread across Megan's face.  
"No, I'll admit you've all seen better days. But you've seen worse, too. I did read the report and I know what happened to you down there. But you're a strong guy, Don. And you….your Dad….Charlie…you're a strong family. You'll get through this together."

In the course of his ever-developing relationship with his younger brother, Don thought he had finally gotten to a place in his life where he could let someone else be there for _him_. As he nodded at Megan, he hoped that he had been right about that…and that after all of this, it would still hold true. What he did know, with utmost certainty, was that he had missed his brother more than he had ever though possible. And as tired as he was, consciously succumbing to sleep was going to be out of the question until he had a chance to talk to Charlie.

"I'm going to get some more coffee, do you want a cup?"

Megan narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head.  
"Are you sure that's a good idea, Don? It seems to me that what you need is a place to lie down, not more caffeine."

Don laughed under his breath as he turned back toward her.  
"Okay, now. I've got a few more hours left in me before I disintegrate into a quivering heap."

Seeing the deep-seated concern behind her eyes, Don gave Megan a somber smile.  
"Listen, you've been here for my family…..when I couldn't be. And for that I am eternally grateful. I owe you big time, Reeves, and I haven't done a very good job of showing that."

"Don, you…."

"I know you're right. I do need to sleep….but so does Charlie…and _I am _talking to him before I call it a day, so that means remaining conscious until _he _wakes up. So, I'll be right back. Tell Dad that I just need a few minutes to myself, okay?"

Bowing her head in surrender, Megan cast him a sympathetic smile before she turned and walked back into the garage. Opening the back door, Don paused to examine the frame around the lock where Colby had kicked in the door. The splintering to the beam itself had been relatively minimal and Don shook his head as he stepped into the kitchen, amazed that he hadn't noticed the new door earlier.

The smell of breakfast still permeated the room and Don felt his stomach twist in what he easily recognized as hunger. Breakfast was only an hour ago, but Don wasn't about to tell himself that he didn't need to eat again. Walking to the refrigerator, Don pulled open the door and searched the shelves for something to snack on.

"Good Morning, I need to….."

The sound of a familiar voice spun Don around as he searched for the source. To his surprise and delight, Charlie had just walked into the kitchen. 'Hobbled' might have been a more apt description, as his right foot was well-wrapped in white gauze and he was making every effort not to put all his weight on it. The long flannel pajamas that Charlie was wearing seemed a bit much for a warm summer day and his hair was a wild array of spiral curls that stuck out at odd angles all over the top of his head.

"Yes, I'll hold."

Charlie was talking to someone on the phone and he didn't notice Don standing there in front of the open refrigerator. As he limped across the room to the coffee pot, he tried to stifle a giant yawn with little luck. Grabbing a mug from the cabinet, Charlie tucked the phone in between his cheek and shoulder and poured himself a cup of coffee. He was about to turn back around when whoever had put him on hold came back on the line. He put the cup down on the counter as he spoke.

"Yes, thank you. I'm calling about Adam Burdick, he's a patient of Doctor Holt…

I'd like to get him in this morning if that's possible.

No, I'm his guardian, Charles Eppes…

Yes, that's the one.

Well, he's been up all night crying and fussing, which isn't normal for him.

…yeah, he's been pulling at his ears a little, but I don't think that's what's causing….

…he finally fell asleep around six this morning.

…well, he's hot and sweaty, but he has been crying non-stop for hours and…

Yes, I took his temperature.

it was ninety-nine point six last night and one hundred point three about five o'clock

this morning.

... he's six months old, of course he's teething…

…My father said that too. But there is no corroborating medical evidence or verified statistics that support the notion that teething causes low grade fevers."

Don felt a wide grin spreading across his face. Alan states something about child rearing as a fact, and Charlie does a research project on it. At least some things never changed.

"Yes, I think I can get us there by eleven thirty, but…."

Pivoting on his good foot, Charlie took a step toward the fridge and felt his heart leap into his throat. He had seen motion out of the corner of his eye when he walked into the kitchen but he had assumed it was his father. The large, dark bedraggled man had been grinning like a lunatic when he turned toward him and Charlie's thoughts immediately turned to Adam. He had taken the baby upstairs only moments ago and laid him down in his crib. He had heard that Pasadena's transient population was growing, but they had always been regarded as more of a nuisance than a threat. But if this homeless man was bold enough to walk into his house and help himself to the contents of the refrigerator, what else might he be capable of?

The insane asylum grin that had been plastered across the face of the destitute looking man vanished and Charlie felt his heart skip a beat. Whatever the man's intentions might be, he wasn't going to wait around to find out. Charlie allowed the phone to slip from his grasp and he reached behind him searching for a weapon. His hand lighted on the heavy wooden rolling pin that had been left on the counter. Wrapping his fingers around the handle, Charlie slung his arm around and held the rolling pin out toward the intruder.

"Get out of my house!"

Taking several aggressive steps forward, Charlie found himself standing between the shabby looking man and the door that led to the rest of the house; the door that led to Adam.

"Dad! There's a burglar in the house; call 911!"

The minute he called for his father, Charlie was struck with the realization that the brash behavior of this stranger could be a result of the fact that he thought he had already taken care of the occupant of the house. Planting his feet solidly on the floor in spite of the bandage on his foot, Charlie raised the heavy wooden pin over his head like a club.

"Get out of my house! Get the hell out of my house!"

From the phone on the floor, a high pitched distorted voice began to call out his name and Charlie did the only thing he could think of. He began shouting at the phone on the floor.

"Help! Call the police! There's an intruder in my house!"

He took another step toward the man, hoping he would run out the back door. But much to Charlie's surprise, he only stood there staring at him cock-eyed, which served to reinforce his notion that the man was not in charge of his mental faculties. When the man did shift his position, Charlie braced himself for an all out attack. But instead of advancing on him, the scruffy looking man took a step back and raised his hands up in front of his chest.

"Charlie, Buddy, it's just me."

Any familiarity in the voice was overshadowed by the shock that a deranged, potentially homicidal madman knew his name. But when Charlie locked eyes with the stranger standing in his kitchen, he found himself frozen in place.

The backdoor flew open and Megan rushed into the room, followed by Alan. The sight that met the older man's eyes stopped him in his tracks and he instantly knew it was a scene he was never going to forget. Don was standing up against the door of the open refrigerator with his hands held out in front of him at chest level, his legs bent slightly as if he expected to be forced into some sort of action. Charlie was standing less than ten feet away from him, wielding a rolling pin over his head and looking more than ready to bash his older brother with it. If Charlie hadn't looked so utterly terrified, Alan might have found the scene humorous.

"Charlie, wait!"

Charlie was peripherally aware of the backdoor slamming open, and he heard his father's shout. But he was unable to pull his gaze away from the dark eyes that were staring back at him. He knew those eyes. But it wasn't possible...it couldn't be.

"Don?"

A slow, and somewhat relieved, smile turned up the corners of Don's mouth as a look of comprehension dawned on his younger brother's face. Charlie's hands fell to his sides and the rolling pin dropped from numb fingers to the floor, barely missing his bandaged foot and landing on the abandoned phone receiver.

"Yeah."  
Don nodded his head lightly to reinforce his words.  
"I'm back."

Standing in front of the back door, Megan and Alan were looking back and forth between Don and Charlie as if they were watching a tennis match.

"Don? Is it really you?"  
Charlie's voice was soft and uncertain as if he were speaking to an apparition.

"It's really me, Charlie."

It seemed to take Charlie a moment to process what his eyes were seeing and when he launched himself across the room at his brother, Alan almost thought he was going to wallop him anyway, with or without the rolling pin. Instead, Charlie wrapped his arms around his older brother's body and encompassed him in a bear hug. For a split second, Don looked surprised, but was able to brace himself for the collision and he quickly wrapped his right arm around the back of his brother's head and returned the embrace.

Neither man had acknowledged the presence of the other two people in the room. Feeling like she was intruding on a private family moment, Megan flashed Alan a warm smile and she moved quietly out the back door. After a moment, Alan turned away, following her into the yard and leaving the brothers alone in the kitchen.

Charlie pulled away first and grabbed Don by his upper arms, effectively holding him out in front of him. He took in his brother's thin frame, the marks on his arms and wrists and the gaunt face that was hiding beneath a full beard. When he met Don's eyes again and tried to speak, his voice cracked with emotion.

"Damn, it's good to see you."

There was an awkward pause as Don swallowed hard, and Charlie let go of his arms. Taking a step back, he plastered on a serious expression and raised his eyebrows at his older brother.

"What have you done to your hair?"

A wide grin broke out over Don's face, which Charlie quickly returned and they both began to laugh. The laughter served as an adequate emotional release and after a few moments, Don lifted his head up and took a deep breath.

"Jeez, Charlie. I though you were gonna brain me with that thing."

Charlie nodded his head vigorously.  
"So did I. You scared the crap out of me."

He stopped to get another good look at his brother and his eyes filled with a warranted concern.  
"You look like….God, Don what happened to you? Are you all right? You look like hell."

Avoiding a straightforward response, Don raised a hand up to his hair and he smirked.  
"Oh come on, Charlie. The hair's not _that_ bad. I was just getting used to it."

With an exhaled laugh, Charlie shook his head in disbelief.  
"Okay, I guess I can't say much about the hair..."

He ran his hand through his own wild locks as he spoke, in an effort to flatten the curls that were sticking out all over his head.  
"...but you do look like you haven't eaten since you left the house three months ago."

Charlie's newly found parental instincts kicked into high gear and he stepped around Don and leaned into the refrigerator.  
"Sit down. You must be hungry, let me make you some breakfast. Pancakes! You love pancakes."

Backing up against the counter, Don couldn't help but smile. This was a side of Charlie he had never seen before and something about his paternal tone of voice reminded Don very much of their father.

"I've already eaten, Charlie. Dad made me breakfast. In fact, we left a plate for you on the table."

Charlie lifted his head up to look at Don over the top of the open refrigerator door.  
"How long have you been here?"

Don shrugged his shoulders dismissively as he circled the counter, stopping at the kitchen table.  
"Just a few hours. You were asleep on the couch when I got in and Dad said that you'd been up all night with..."

Don paused. Even though he had heard the name dozens of times over the past few hours, he had to mentally check himself to make sure he got it right.  
"...Adam?"

Charlie nodded in affirmation as Don continued.  
"And you looked like you needed the sleep, so I left you where you were."

Realizing what it must have been like for Don to walk into the house and find the living room looking like the Banks Family's Nursery on Mary Poppins' day off, struck a humorous chord with Charlie and a raucous burst of laughter escaped him.

"I'll bet me, with a baby, wasn't exactly what you were expecting to see when you walked into the house, huh?"

Pulling a chair out from under the table, Don lowered himself into it.  
"Well, for a minute I was hearing the theme song to the Twilight Zone. But once the shock wore off, I..."

Charlie's grin was fading and Don stopped himself mid-sentence as his brother took a seat on the other side of the table.

"Don, I don't know how much Dad told you..."

"Everything…..I think."

Don put his elbows on the table and leaned forward, looking earnestly at his brother.  
"I'm really sorry about Ethan. It's unbelievable….what happened."

For a minute Charlie was silent and Don wondered if he'd made a mistake by assuming that his brother would be okay to talk about the death of his friend. But after a moment, Charlie looked up at Don, biting his lip and nodding his head slowly.  
"Yeah."

"I should have been here, Charlie. I'm really sorry."

A twinge of the desertion that Charlie had felt due to his brother's absence had risen up in his chest and for a moment he couldn't speak. He had kept that feeling well hidden, even from himself, and it caught him a little off guard. Clearing his throat, Charlie stomped it back down.

"Don…."  
Furrowing his brow, Charlie shook his head at his brother.  
"I think it's safe to say that neither of us saw this coming. You can't feel guilty about something which you had no control over."

Looking at Don's hardly recognizable visage, it wasn't hard for Charlie to see that his brother's time in Colombia was far worse than anything he had faced here at home. That knowledge completely quelled any feelings of resentment he had been subconsciously harboring and Charlie looked at Don with concerned eyes.

"Did you get what you went down there for?"

Don ran his hand over his mouth and down his beard, rubbing his chin for a moment before he nodded at his brother.  
"Yeah. I was able to get enough information about the cartel's US operations for our guys to get the evidence they needed. They should be serving Valdario's arrest warrant as soon as he sets foot on US soil."

Charlie nodded quickly to acknowledge that news, but he had been looking for an answer of a more personal nature. Sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms, Charlie posed another question.

"And did you find what _you _needed?"

Don lifted his eyes and met his brother's penetrating stare. They both knew the reason Don had given in and taken this assignment. The opportunity to dole out justice to a deserving scumbag like Miguel Valdario was too great of a temptation. When he left for Colombia, Don would have chased the malicious drug lord around the world if that was what it had required. And now……

"Don?"

Blinking several times, Don shook his head in an attempt to clear his weary mind.  
"I'm sorry, Charlie. I'm just too tired to think about it right now."

Charlie felt his stomach twist into a tight knot. He could see from Don's physical appearance that he had been through hell, but the troubled expression that resided in his eyes spoke even more fully of the horrors that he had faced.

"Well,"  
Charlie shrugged his shoulders at his brother.  
"…sleep for a few days…and ….and when you feel like talking…."

A strained smile lifted the corners of Don's mouth. A thought had occurred to him. Here was his brother who had been through a horrible, traumatic experience, followed by an illness and an extended hospital stay. And he was offering _his_ shoulder to cry on, _his_ ear to listen. And it was in that moment that Don realized that Charlie really was there for him and he really did have someone else to depend on…someone besides himself.

"Yeah, Charlie. I know."

For a second, Charlie looked so crestfallen, that Don had to stop himself from launching into a full detail account of the life changing events that had filled the last three months of _his _life.

"Listen, Charlie, I may be too tired to talk, but I'm still lucid enough to listen. I was really hoping to hear more about Adam…and Ethan…and everything that you've had to deal with."

Rather than reply, Charlie unexpectedly stood up from the table and began a limping pace across the kitchen floor. When his foot bumped the phone, he bent over and picked it up along with the rolling pin. An odd smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he turned an apologetic face to his older brother.

"Sorry for not recognizing you and….you know….waving a rolling pin at you."

A small chuckle escaped him as Charlie turned to put broken phone on the counter.  
"That must have been hysterical to see; me with a rolling pin ready to defend myself against..."

Charlie stopped as the thought finished itself in his head.  
_"Against the broken shell of what used to be my brother." _

"Charlie…"

Don's voice had an unfamiliar tone to it and Charlie turned to face him.  
"You looked like you would have beat me to a pulp with that thing if you'd had to. I didn't know you had it in you."

Charlie smiled and gave a little laugh.  
"I guess I didn't either."

"Well, from what Dad said, you've found out a lot of things about yourself, that you didn't know, in the past few months."

"Yeah…"

When Charlie turned away from him again, Don exhaled loudly,  
"Hey, Charlie…"

He paused and took a deep breath, then lowered his voice and continued.  
"Listen, Dad told me everything that's happened. And….well, I….I'm proud of you. You took this all head-on….you didn't run away from it… …I just…. You've done an amazing thing here, Charlie."

Charlie laid the rolling pin next to the sink. After a few moments of silence, he turned back to his brother.  
"What is there to be proud of, Don? I made a promise…..I didn't say yes because I wanted to….it was his _dying wish _for me to….."

He looked up at the ceiling for a second, ran his hand through his hair and blew the air out of his lungs in a long huff.  
"What was I supposed to say to him, Don? 'No, I'm sorry, man. I have a life.'? All I'm doing here is keeping my word. I made a promise."

Charlie sounded almost angry, which Don found confusing. He had gotten the distinct impression from his father that Charlie had grown to love this child almost as if he were his own.

"Charlie, keeping a promise like that…...that's something to be proud of. When you saw me in the kitchen, you were ready to put yourself between…"  
He paused and a light smirk graced his face.  
"Well….me…"

He waited for Charlie to look up before he continued.  
"…and that baby. But that's something to be proud of, Charlie. If it _had _been some deranged intruder…..God…you never even thought twice."

Charlie looked at his brother's earnest expression and lowered his head, averting his eyes to the floor.  
"You said Dad told you everything? Did he tell you that I fell asleep and let Adam climb up the stairs on his own? Did he tell you that I let him pull a lamp over on top of himself? He could have been seriously injured."

He pointed to his bandaged foot to illustrate his point.  
"Did he tell you that I almost killed him, because I wasn't willing to admit that I couldn't do it all on my own?"

Don got up from his seat at the table and crossed the kitchen.  
"Yeah, he told me about that day."

Stopping directly in front of his brother, Don grabbed Charlie by the shoulders to make him look at him.  
"You passed out, Charlie. It's not like you were sleeping off a hangover or something. You stepped on that damn lamp to _keep _Adam from hurting himself! And then, you almost killed yourself getting to the phone and calling for help!"

Charlie knew that Don was right. He hadn't done anything wrong…and what had happened that day didn't make him a defective custodian. But since his release from the hospital, he had been rethinking his role in Adam's life and he couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't someone better suited to continue caring for him until the child's Aunt and Uncle were able to come take him home.

With a deep sigh, Charlie dropped his head and Don reached out and put his hand on the back of his younger brother's neck.  
"Charlie…."

The sound of sirens approaching in the distance disrupted the moment and Don dropped his arm. Charlie lifted his head and they both stared at each other for a moment as the sound drew closer. When a loud screeching of tires from out in front of the house cut through the air, Don quickly moved off toward the front room. Stepping to the backdoor, Charlie could see his dad and Megan in the yard.

"Hey, you two, what's….."

Just as Charlie stepped out onto the patio, a uniformed police officer with his gun drawn rounded the corner.  
"Police! Stay where you are."

"I'm a federal agent!"  
Raising her hands into the air, Megan turned toward the officer.  
"I'm a federal agent. I'm going to get my badge, if you'll just…"

Megan was slowly reaching into her jacket pocket when shouts from inside the house rang out, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Police! Freeze! Get on the floor with your hands behind your head!"

"Oh, God."  
Charlie turned quickly, ignoring his heavily bandaged foot and charged back into the house.  
"Wait! Don't hurt him!"

The officer turned his head toward the door as Charlie disappeared inside.  
"I said, stay where you are!"

Ignoring his command, Alan made a bee-line for the back door. When she realized the officer was not going to open fire on them, Megan took off after him.

Crossing the kitchen, all Charlie could think of was how easily he had mistaken Don for a dangerous transient and he knew deep down in his gut that a well-intentioned police officer would do the same thing. And they weren't armed with rolling pins.

Charlie came through the swinging door from the kitchen with so much force that it smashed loudly into the wall. A man in a blue uniform was leaning over Don; who was sprawled out on the floor with his hands behind his head. The officer was holding his handcuffs in one hand and his service revolver in the other. He turned automatically toward the noise and swung his weapon up, pointing it at Charlie's chest.

Don could see the panic in Charlie's eyes as the gun swung in his direction. Along with the pent up ferocity of his emotions, which had been muddling his logic all morning, the sight was more than Don could stand. Without considering that he was dealing with a trained police officer and not some lone nut job that had busted into his brother's house with gun, Don impulsively reacted in Charlie's defense. Pulling his knees up, while simultaneously twisting his body around, Don struck out with his right leg and caught the officer behind the knees.

"CHARLIE, GET DOWN!"

As the policeman stumbled backwards, Don brought his other leg around and hit him again causing the man's knees to buckle. Charlie reacted immediately to Don's command, but in that same instant, another voice from the kitchen yelled his name and Charlie turned his head back toward the door just as he dropped to his knees.

Once again, the swinging door that led from the kitchen to the dining room was slung open with an exceptional force. The edge of the door caught Charlie across the left side of the head, knocking him sideways onto the floor.

"Charlie!"

Alan stepped through the door and dropped to his knees next to his youngest son, just as Megan pushed past him. She was immediately followed by the second officer from the backyard.

"NOBODY MOVE!"

This time, everyone obeyed the command. The minute Don stopped moving the first officer rolled on top of him. Planting his knee firmly in Don's back, he swiftly grabbed his handcuffs from the floor where he had dropped them and slapped them roughly on Don's wrists.

The cop behind Alan and Megan held his gun out as he moved around, distancing himself from them. He stopped next to his partner.  
"You okay?"

"Yeah, he caught me off guard."

Once again, Megan put her hands up in the air and took a tentative step forward.  
"My name is Megan Reeves, I'm a federal agent with the FBI. There must be some kind of a mistake here."

Lowering one hand very slowly, she continued her speech.  
"I'm going to get my identification out of my pocket."

The officers exchanged a glance and the one who was still kneeling on Don's back nodded his head. As Megan brandished her badge out in front of her, the officer who was on his feet stepped forward and took it from her to verify it's authenticity.

"We received a 911 call that an intruder was in this house and the owner was being assaulted."

Megan narrowed her eyes at them and shook her head.  
"I don't think so. The man your partner just put in cuffs is Special Agent Don Eppes."

She lowered her eyes to Don and he lifted his head up slightly from the floor.  
"Badge is in my back pocket. I'm not armed."

The cop quickly stood, removing his knee from Don's back and gently reached into his pocket to retrieve his wallet.

Twisting his head around, Don glared up at the officer above him.  
"Can you get me out of these cuffs, please?"

Turning toward Megan, he shook his head solemnly.  
"I'm going to need to verify these badge numbers."

She nodded and the officer stepped to the side of the room and began speaking though his radio to the dispatch center, reading the badge numbers.

"Don, did Charlie call 911?"

Don shook his head at her as best he could from his position on the floor.  
"No. He was on the phone with Adam's doctor and…..they must have thought he was in trouble and put in the call."

Don tried to lift his head up so he could get a better look at Charlie, who had risen to his knees and then quickly leaned over, resting his head on the floor in front of him. His father was kneeling next to him and Don could hear him talking softly, but he couldn't understand the words.

"Dad, is he all right?"

Alan lifted his head and raised his shoulders slightly, then turned his attention back to Charlie. The officer who was holding their badges crossed the room again and handed them both to Megan.

"It looks like we owe you folks an apology."

"Apologize later."  
Using his shoulders and head as leverage, Don pushed himself up to his knees and sat up.  
"Get these damn cuffs off of me. Now."

Don hadn't taken his eyes off his brother and as soon at the cuffs were removed, he crawled over to where Charlie and his father were kneeling. Casting a concerned glance at Alan, Don took Charlie by the shoulders. He still had his hands over the back of his head and he was rocking gently, staggering his breathing as if he were trying to keep from throwing up.

"Buddy, I need you to say something. Are you okay?"

Charlie stopped rocking and slowly raised himself up, keeping his eyes pinched tightly shut.  
"Uh, huh."

His voice was shaky, and when he took his hands off the side of his head, they were trembling.  
"You…alright, Don?"

Patting Charlie's back lightly, Don shook his head even though his brother wasn't looking at him.  
"I'm fine, Buddy. You, on the other hand, just got beaned again. Can you open your eyes?"

"Uh, huh."  
Slowly, Charlie peeled his eyes open and Don watched as he struggled to focus them.

"Look at me, Buddy."  
Don held out his hand and lifted two fingers into the air.  
"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Raising his eyes from Don's hand to his face, Charlie squinted.  
"Which one of you?"

Alan blanched at the comment and turned to look at Megan as she lead the two police officers out the front door. She gave them a fleeting glance over her shoulder and they could hear one of the officers ask, "Should we call an ambulance?"

"No, thanks. I think we've got it, fellas."  
Alan could hear Megan's reply as the door closed behind them and when he turned back to Charlie he was surprised to see his youngest son smiling at his older brother in spite of the pained look in his eyes.

"Don, is there a reason why two of Pasadena's finest just busted into my house and tried to arrest you?"

Still looking immensely concerned, Don nodded.  
"You were on the phone with the doctor's office earlier, remember? You told them to call the police…I guess they did."

Comprehension dawned in Charlie's eyes and his mouth fell open.  
"Oh, man…. I have to call them back! Adam needs to see the doctor today."

Getting his legs under him, Charlie tried to stand and Don grabbed his arm to steady him.  
"I'm okay, Don. Just a little dizzy."

Don and Alan exchanged nervous glances as Charlie staggered into the dining room table before taking a seat.

"Hey, Buddy….."  
Don pulled out the chair opposite Charlie and sat down.  
"I think maybe you're the one who should see a doctor."

"No….Don, I'm really fine."

"Charlie, your brother's right. I'm calling your neurologist."

"Dad….."

"You've been hit in the head three times now inside of a month, Charlie. This isn't an option."

Charlie leaned forward and rested his head on the table.  
"Okay, fine. Just call Adam's doctor first…..please?"

Alan nodded as he turned and walked into the kitchen, presumably to call the doctor, just as Megan strode determinedly through the front door.

"Well, that went well."

With a deep sigh, Megan crossed the room. Stopping next to Don's chair, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and shook her head fretfully.  
"What were you thinking, Don?"

Although her tone was not accusatory, Don reacted defensively and jerked his head around to face her.  
"I thought he was going to shoot my brother, that's what! Please tell me you got their names and badge numbers?!"

"Yes, I did. But what are you going to do, Don? Try to get them reprimanded for doing their job?"

Raising his eyebrows, Don gawked at her.  
"Their job?"

"Yes. They got a 911 call, and they answered it. And if you'd been thinking, you would have identified yourself and stayed down!"

"He almost shot Charlie! I had to do something!"

"Don, you aren't thinking straight. You could have gotten yourself killed."

Megan turned and pointed her finger at the curly head of hair that was resting on the table top.  
"You could have gotten Charlie killed pulling a stunt like that, Don. What if that gun had gone off?"

Don furrowed his brow and nodded his head as he rubbed his hand over his face. He could see the sympathy in her eyes, and for reasons he could not identify, he didn't want it. Giving him an empathetic look, Megan turned her attention to Charlie.

"You okay, there, Charlie?"

Lifting his head up, Charlie gave Megan a reticent smile.  
"What in the hell hit me?"

"That would be the door. Do I need to take you to the…."

"NO!"  
Charlie raised his hand to his head, instantly regretting his outburst.  
"I mean, no thank you."

"Okay….I offered."  
Glancing casually at her watch, Megan circled the table and stopped next to Don.

"I've got a…..a thing. I hate to take off after all this, and I know you and I still have things to talk about….but this is one appointment that can't be rescheduled. Why don't get you some sleep, Don? I'll call tonight and let you know how it went."

When she turned to walk toward the door, Don glanced at Charlie, who was obviously unaware as to the meaning of her comment. Pulling himself to his feet, he moved to follow her. They hadn't told Don that his own team would be executing the arrest warrant against Valdario when his plane landed at LAX this afternoon and he wanted to know the specifics of the incursion.

"I'll walk you out."

Turning back to him, Megan shook her head doggedly.  
"No, no… Sorry, Don. You don't need to know any details. Even if you weren't a few days short on sleep and sanity, you shouldn't see him again until your deposition."

He wanted to be angry about them keeping yet another fact from him, but Don found that he was just too tired, and he heaved a great sigh to convey his surrender.  
"Thanks, Megan."

With a wispy smile, the pretty agent turned back to Charlie.  
"Don't let him leave this house until he gets some sleep."

She waited for Charlie to raise his eyes and acknowledge her, then Megan turned and walked into the kitchen to say goodbye to Alan. For a moment Don remained standing in the middle of the dining room floor, but then Charlie's quiet voice broke into his sleep deprived haze.

"I think the couch is calling my name, Don. Can you…?"

"Yeah."

Don turned and walked back to the table, helping Charlie to his feet.  
"If I don't sit down for a minute, I'm gonna fall down."

Less than ten minutes later, Alan stepped back into the dining room.  
"Charlie, Adam's doctor thinks….. Charlie?"

Neither of his sons were where he had left them, so Alan headed into the living room. From the entryway he could see Charlie on the couch, his head resting on the back of the cushion.

"Charlie, where is your…."  
He stopped himself mid-sentence as he circled around the sofa.

Don was sitting on the couch next to Charlie, but he was slumped over and his head had lolled sideways so that it was resting on his younger brother's shoulder. Lifting his head, being careful not to shift his body, Charlie smiled awkwardly.  
"We sat down on the couch and he just……"

"He's exhausted, Charlie. I'll get him up and send him to bed."

"No."  
The conviction in Charlie's voice stopped him and Alan stepped back.  
"No, Dad. Just leave him……for a little while, okay? I'd like to keep him where I can see him. You know?"

Taking a seat in the black recliner, Alan smiled thoughtfully.  
"Yeah, Charlie. I know."

………………………………

**TBC**

**A/N – Well, we made it through 2006.  
Where did the year go? (Yes, that is a rhetorical question!)**

**We hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and that the New Year will bring you many blessings. **

**I wanted to let you folks know that Alice I's son Adam (the real Adam), who is now fourteen months old, came down with a horrendous case of the chicken pox two days before Christmas and has been extremely ill. Being to young to have received the vaccine yet, his illness caught them by surprise. Alice had been absolutely consumed with caring for her youngest child, which is as it should be…However - - the story has been put on the back burner and we will be slow getting back into the swing of things since Alice hasn't had time to sleep, let alone write anything.**

**So don't give up on us if the next few chapters take a while! It's all in our heads, we just have to get it on paper! WE do hope you enjoyed the long awaited reunion and thought you'd like to know that there is much, much more left to this story……**

**And remember - we always love to hear from you!**

**dHALL**


	14. Deep Into That Darkness Peering

**Chapter Fourteen: Deep Into That Darkness Peering **

The edges of the large, dungeon-like room were shrouded in a semi-darkness that felt physically oppressive. Several sets of bright, round lights were suspended from the low ceiling, however, they did little to dissolve the gloomy shadows that encroached from all sides. The fixtures ran down the center of the vast room, casting pools of light on the line of worktables that ran the length of the chamber.

Groups of unkempt men, woman and children stooped over the edges of the worn, wooden tables. They were hard at work, engaged in the travail task of refining the cartel's Papaver crops into a street ready, sellable product.

Walking the length of the room, Don paused to glance at the tables. Instead of the usual array of harvested seed pods, chemicals and measuring equipment, he saw an agglomeration of other objects being sorted and weighed. Mortgage papers, high school diplomas, scholarship grants, wedding invitations, weekly paychecks; all these things were being shredded up by the enslaved workers to be processed into the cartel's holdings.

Further down, near the end of the room, two small children were wielding large medieval-looking axes; too large for their tiny bodies to heft. Yet, somehow, they managed to lift the long wooden handles over their heads; bringing the sharpened edge of the heavy metal heads down onto the table; smashing up toys, television sets, remote controls, computers and a myriad of other things that might have come from any average American home. An old-fashioned rocking horse, complete with a fraying yarn tail and mane, caught the agent's eye. Its resemblance to the hobbyhorse that had sat in his own room when he was a small child was uncanny and when the massive blade came down, smashing the toy to splinters, Don had to turn away from the destruction.

A little farther up the table, groups of old women were huddled together. Their knuckles, swollen with arthritis, were grasping large oversized scissors, which they were using to cut up baby blankets, patchwork quilts, draperies, wedding dresses and even a few tuxedos.

Behind the workers, a dark-haired young woman was walking around carrying a bucket and something in her slow, staggering gait caught Don's attention. As she turned to walk around the edge of the table, he recognized the face of Katrina Escobar. She was dressed in torn, ragged clothing and blood oozed from the gunshot wound in her neck as she walked along behind the line of workers. Stopping behind each laborer, she would reach into the bucket to pull out an old rag, squeezing the excess liquid out before wiping the sweat from their brows. Upon closer inspection, Don realized that the bucket wasn't filled with water, but blood. As Katrina passed from one person to the next, each worker began to look as if they had just stepped directly from a horror film.

Don turned to flee the room, no longer able to endure the overwhelming stench of human sweat and waste; combined with the coppery odor of blood, that was quickly filling the room. As he headed for the door, his eyes were drawn to several sets of tiny rectangular windows, which were set high along the walls.

Somewhere outside of the compound, he could hear an animal howling and the sound stopped him in his tracks. It wasn't just the howl of one animal talking to another. It was a howl of anguish… a howl of pain… of misery. With each passing moment, Don became more and more convinced that the animal in question was human.

The sound was nearby and he tried to stand on his tiptoes to look out of the window, but they were too high up for him to see anything. Suddenly frantic to find the source of the tortured cries, Don ran though the processing chamber, past the destruction of people's lives, and out through the large doors at the end.

The full moon was shining brightly and was in such contrast to the dim illumination of the processing lab, that it took Don a moment for his eyes to adjust to the new level of ambient light. Nevertheless, as he turned his head, he could easily make out the source of the sounds that had driven him forward.

Crouched low over the dusty earth was a familiar looking young man. He was clawing at the hard packed dirt with his bare hands, his fingers blistered and bleeding. His grimy blond hair hung in his eyes as he continued to howl; only now it sounded less like a wounded animal and more like a frightened child. Moving forward to get a look at the man who was kneeling on the ground, Don was horrified to see that it was Daniel who was frantically digging the hole. Next to him was a large pile of USB flash drives. As he dug faster and more frantically, the pile of drives, which Don knew contained evidence against Valdario and his men, continued to grow larger with each handful of dirt he tossed up between his legs. Meanwhile, the hole he was digging consistently remained the same depth.

Coming from the barracks at the bottom of the hill, Don could see a group of armed guards running toward Daniel, their guns raised to shoot. He opened his mouth to warn the young man of the approaching danger, but his words were lost behind the loud roar that ensued when the enormous pile of flash drives toppled over under its own weight. The river of plastic and metal formed an incessant tidal wave that swept over Daniel and carried him down the other side of the hill, into the valley.

Don turned toward the guards, prepared to face them alone in hopes of giving Daniel time to recover and flee. However, instead of men with automatic weapons, he found himself face to face with a ravenous pack of wolves. Vicious snarling emitted from their bloody snouts as they moved to circle around him. As a surge of fear and raw panic bolted through his veins, Don turned to run only to find himself boxed in by the stone walls of the wine cellar where he and the other suspected American harvesters had been kept for the last four weeks.

Turning his back to the walls, hoping to defend himself against the snarling animals, Don found he was facing; not a pack of wolves, but rather the angry and accusing faces of the other prisoners.

"You did this to us!"

"I died in that lab because you were playing spy!"

"You got our food taken away!"

"You let us die!"

"YOU murdered Daniel!"

As the angry mob closed in on him, the floor beneath them suddenly shifted. Lowering his eyes, Don saw that the stone floor was now a creamy brown powdery substance. As the men continued to move toward him, they faltered and began to sink. The shouts of rage quickly became cries of fear and panic.

"Help us!"

"Don't let us die this way!"

Don lunged forward, landing on his belly, reaching for the man closest to him. The beige powder was silky and he lost his grip. The other men where also fighting desperately to keep their heads above the surface. Their struggles caused the powder to fly up around them in sprays of off-white dust. As their faces became coated in the substance, they inhaled the powder and within seconds, their eyes glazed over in a drug induced haze.

Looking wildly around for something to save these men, Don spied a length of rope coiled up in the corner. Rising to his knees, he scrambled over to it. Standing up, he threw the rope out toward the group of men who were sinking in the unrefined heroin quicksand. They reached out blindly, feeling for a way out of the deathtrap and as their groping hands found the rope, Don began to pull.

The strain of so many men on the rope was incredible. Pulling with all the strength he could muster, Don wrapped the ropes around his wrists to get a better grip and squeezed his eyes shut.

The rope suddenly went slack. Then without warning, instead of being the one who was pulling, Don suddenly found himself being pulled and the rope around his wrists became tight and painful.

Opening his eyes, Don found himself hanging from two splintering wooden beams that formed a large triangular frame. His feet were dangling several inches above the ground, where his clothing was lying in a heap, callously discarded after it had been stripped from his body. The stars were shining brightly, the Southern Cross clearly visible in the cloudless sky above him.

A loud crack cut through the serenity of the night and a sudden, sharp pain assailed his back. Don forced himself not to cry out as a second lash set his back on fire and the whip sliced into his flesh.

Before the next strike of the whip, his attention was drawn to the ground roughly ten feet in front of where he hung suspended. A shadowy figure, cloaked in darkness, was digging a series of shallow holes in the dusty earth. Each hole appeared to be roughly six feet in length. Realizing that he was looking at what was likely his own grave, Don made no effort to mute his cry of pain as the whip tore into his back again.

The sound of growling turned his attention to the right, and he saw the wolf pack approaching. They were dragging bodies along with them and as they reached the holes, they began depositing the corpses in a pile.

The man with the shovel walked slowly, almost painfully, toward the bodies and began to drag one of them toward the first of the freshly dug graves. As Don watched the proceedings, another loud crack filled his ears. This one was not produced by the whip, which was still slicing into his back, but rather by a large tree that had split down the center and was falling straight toward him. The tree slammed into the earth directly in front of him, the tops of its limbs missing Don's face by only a few centimeters as it landed across the graves. The shadowy figure that had been digging the graves was struck by an enormous limb, and was knocked into the shallow grave where he had been trying to deposit the heavy corpse. Watching with a morbid fascination, Don was surprised to see the gravedigger moving beneath the huge bough. Using his hands, the man dug his way out from under the massive weight of the tree, which should have kept him in the hole, pinned below its branches. Pulling himself to his feet, he shook the excess dirt off and then immediately returned to his task of shoving the body into the hole he had just crawled out of. As he straightened himself up and arched his back to stretch it, he mopped the sweat from his forehead and turned.

Don was able to see the man's face now, well lit in the bright moon light. His dark curls hung loosely around his face and his deep brown eyes turned to look at him with an unfathomable sadness.

"Charlie!"

When his brother called his name, Charlie's innocent, earnest gaze turned to one of ardent accusation and he turned away to face the pile of bodies. In the moonlight, Don was now able to make out two of the faces on the corpses below him. One was Daniel…the other Katrina. The rest of the bodies were covered with limbs and he couldn't tell who they had once been, but somehow Don knew they would be faces he would recognize.

Charlie turned back to face Don again just as the whip bit into his back with a brutal force that made him cry out in pain. Blinking up at him, into the moonlight, tears ran down Charlie's face.

"Katrina, Ethan, Becky, Emily, Daniel… How many more will I have to bury, Don? I can't do this…..I can't keep doing this. Not even for you."

When the whip hit him again, Don cried out harder; remorse adding volume to his scream of agony.

"I'm sorry, Charlie! I'm sorry!"

Daniel's body moved, and the corpse turned its head to Don.

"This is your fault, Don. I tried to save you. I tried to help you, and you betrayed me! You murdered me!"

"NO! Daniel!"

Turning away from Don, Charlie walked to the pile of bodies and grabbed Daniel under the arms, dragging the young man's body to the next grave site.

As he struggled with the weight of the corpse, Charlie turned his eyes to his brother again.

"I just can't, Don. I just can't."

Tears were streaming down Charlie's face and Don pulled hard on his bonds, trying to release himself so he could help with his brother's burden. The ropes that bound his wrists were unaffected by his effort, but still, Don fought against his restraints as he watched Charlie's attempt to dump the heavy body into the open grave.

"I'm sorry, Charlie. I'm so sorry."

Unsure of what had awakened him, Charlie lifted his head from where it was resting on the back of the couch. The sudden movement sent a mild wave of thumping pain across his bruised cranium. He hadn't meant to doze off and he had been certain that his father wouldn't let him fall asleep. Since he had obtained yet another concussion, he knew that he should stay awake….at least until the doctor told him that he hadn't permanently scrambled his brains this time. Still, the pain in his head wasn't what had brought him out of his slumber. Something was wrong.

His first thought was Adam and he listened intently for any sounds coming from the nursery upstairs. Charlie had consciously told himself that he needed to remain alert to listen for the baby and he chided himself for dozing off. Adam had been running a low-grade fever when he had carried him up to his crib and Alan had called the doctor's office back to make an appointment for later that afternoon. Charlie had learned fast that when Adam wasn't feeling well, sleep was pretty much out of the question for anyone within earshot of the six month old.

Still, the only sounds Charlie could hear were those of his father, moving around in the kitchen and he quickly realized that only a few minutes must have passed since he had told his dad to let Don rest where he was for a while.

"_Don."_

That was what had alerted Charlie to a change in the ambiance of the room. Don's head had been resting on his shoulder when he had dozed off and it was no longer there. Next to him on the couch, he saw his brother had changed his position drastically. Don had flopped over onto the armrest on the couch. Suddenly he moved; drawing is knees up to his chest as he groaned loudly.

"Don?"

As if in response to his voice, Don's whole body seemed to tense up and then began flexing as if in response to some unseen stimuli, his face scrunched up in a grimace of pain.

Charlie sat the rest of the way up and leaned across Don's body to put his hand on his older brother's shoulder. The muscles were taut and Don shuttered in response to the physical contact and began to mutter in his sleep.

"No……Daniel."

"Don?"

"Charlie, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Trying not to imagine the nature of the nightmare that could haunt his older brother to this degree, Charlie shook Don harder in his attempt to wake him.

"Don, bro…..wake up."

Don's arm shot up, his hand latching tightly onto Charlie's wrist. Inhaling sharply at the sudden reaction, Charlie moved to pull his arm away, but Don held him tightly in place.

"Don? You're dreaming, man, wake up."

His eyes snapped open, but it looked to Charlie as if he were still trapped inside of the dream. The dark brown corneas were unfocused and filled with so much pain that Charlie felt his concern for his brother amplify in spite of the vice-like grip that was increasing the pressure on his wrist.

"Don? Come on, bro. You're freaking me out."

Don continued to stare at him with unfocused eyes for several seconds. Then, just as abruptly as he had grabbed him, Don's hold on his arm relaxed and Charlie watched as he squeezed his eyes shut again. He brought his fists up to his face, grinding his knuckles into his closed eyes as if he could wipe away the images in his mind.

Leaning back, Charlie unconsciously rubbed his wrist where Don's iron grip had left finger marks as he stared in wide-eyed earnestness at his brother.

"Don? Are you okay?"

The tone of concern in his younger brother's voice brought Don fully awake and he sighed deeply before lowering his hands. He lifted his eyes to look at Charlie, dismayed by the odd combination of fear and apprehension that he saw displayed on his face.

"What? Yeah…are you okay?"

"Me? Don, I'm fine. But you were…."

The details of his nightmare were still lingering around the edges of his conscious mind and Don shook his head dismissively.

"I'm okay now, Charlie."

Still looking unconvinced, Charlie sat back and turned on the couch to face him.

"Are you sure? You really wigged out on me there for a minute. "

Don leaned forward slowly as if he were in some kind of pain. He suddenly looked so much older than Charlie had remembered.

"I guess that was one hell of a nightmare."

Dropping his face into his hands, Don scrubbed at his beard.

"Yeah, Charlie...it was. A part of me hasn't come home yet. It'll take some time, that's all. "

"Are you...you know...seeing anybody...I mean, someone you can talk to?"

Sitting back, still scratching his face, Don looked over Charlie again. Under normal circumstances a question like that might have offended him, even coming from his brother...especially coming from his brother. But Charlie looked so worried that another pang of guilt gripped Don's heart. He wanted to tell Charlie everything that had happened and he had decided that someday he would. But today, Charlie didn't need to hear the details of the events that had given Don enough material for hundreds of nightmares like the one he had just had. Charlie had been through enough horrors of his own...he certainly didn't need the additional burden of worrying about his big brother.

"Hey...don't worry about it, okay? I knew this going to be a rough ride going in and the Bureau's already hooked me up with a nice little shrink in the valley."

Still scratching his beard, Don shook his head again; ignoring Charlie's intent look of concern.

"I need a shave. This thing is driving me nuts."

Charlie recognized Don's restrained appeal to move on to another topic and quickly plastered a smile across his face.

"The beard is...nice. Different...but very you. I'm sure if you give it a chance..."

Don cut him off with a stern, yet good natured, warning look.

"I don't need your sarcasm, Charlie. What I _need_ is a shave, a shower and a bed. In that order. Sarcasm can come later."

Still smiling, Charlie got to his feet and held his hand out for his brother to help him up.

"Well, I believe we at the Eppes Hotel can accommodate you on all of those counts."

Don took the offered hand and allowed his brother to pull him into a standing position. He was amazed at how much more tired he actually felt _after_ his short nap, than he had before it. Nearly stumbling toward the stairs, Don made his way up to the bathroom while Charlie followed close behind, monitoring the weary and staggering gate of the older man.

"Hey, Charlie does Dad still..."

"Shhhh."

Don turned to see Charlie with his finger up over his lips.

"Adam sleeps up here."

He pointed to what used to be the spare bedroom. Don didn't walk inside, but from the doorway he could see a new chest of drawers on the far wall. Dark curtains now covered the wide windows and a mobile of the sun, moon and stars hung over a baby crib, which was placed almost in the center of the room.

Don walked down the hall to the bathroom, lowering his voice to finish his sentence.

"Does Dad still have a set of those hair trimmers?"

Nodding, Charlie stepped past him and opened the cabinet under the bathroom sink. Handing the shears to Don, he stepped back into the hallway and grabbed the side of the door to pull it closed behind him.

"I'd say 'holler if you need anything'...but to be honest, I'd rather you didn't."  
He glanced down the hall toward the darkened nursery to emphasize his reasoning, then looked back at Don.

"So, _find me_ if you need anything?"

Standing in the doorway, Charlie hesitated. Don could see an intense apprehension brewing in his brother's eyes and it seemed to him that Charlie was almost afraid to close the door. Touched by his displayed concern, Don stepped over and put his hand on the door next to his brother's.

"I 'm not going to disappear, Charlie."

Smiling sheepishly, Charlie shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, I know."

He lifted his head and met Don 's eyes. The held each other's gaze for several moments before Charlie heaved a deep sigh, breaking the silence.

"I'm just really glad you're home, Don. That's all."

Looking slightly embarrassed and shaking his head, Charlie closed the door; leaving Don alone in the bathroom.

When he emerged from the steamy shower almost forty minutes later,

Don smiled to himself, feeling more human than he had in as long as he could remember...in spite of his persistent exhaustion. He was now clean shaven and had pulled his detangled, clean hair into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. By the time he had finished the arduous task of removing the thick beard that had covered his face, Don had decided that the haircut could wait until he could make it to a barber. He was still surprised at how fast his hair had grown and how incredibly unruly his mane had become. As soon as Carlito had decided to cooperate, Don had begun to allow his hair to grow and had stopped shaving. After only a month of prep work for the undercover assignment, his hair had grown just over an inch and he had a full beard. In fact, that was the first thing that had clued Charlie in on the fact that something was going on with his usually meticulously trimmed and clean-shaven brother.

Staring at his reflection in the fogged up mirror, Don had to admit that he still looked dreadful, even though he was cleaner than he had been in months. Without the beard, his weight loss was painfully apparent in his hollow cheeks and sharp jaw line. His eyes looked less sunken with the removal of the facial hair, but the lines of fatigue were even more evident. He wrapped one of the fluffy bath towels around his waist and slowly opened the door to make sure that the hallway was clear.

Don half expected Charlie, and perhaps even their father, to be standing in the hall waiting for him. But much to his relief, neither were anywhere to be seen. Don stepped into the corridor and stood there for a moment in silence, listening for any sounds that might clue him in as to where they were. Hearing nothing, Don tiptoed quietly past the still dark, and silent nursery and stepped into his old childhood room.

A pair of red and blue stripped, cotton pajama bottoms and a small white tee shirt were neatly folded at the foot of the bed and he felt a smile creep across his face. Charlie had obviously decided that Don had lost enough weight to wear his clothes and even though he knew his brother had assumed correctly, the idea made him chuckle.

The familiar pattern of the comforter that covered the lower half of his old bed was such a welcome sight that he had the urge to just flop down on it, clad only in the towel. Instead, he took the pajama bottoms and slipped those on, tossing the wet towel over the bed post. Picking up the t-shirt, Don raised it up over his head to put it on.

"Hey, Don. I pulled out a few pairs of my..."

Charlie stopped speaking mid-sentence when he pushed open the door, which had been standing slighting ajar, and stepped into the room; almost dropping the stack of sweatpants that he was holding in his arms.

His older brother was standing with his back to the door and Charlie could easily make out his ribs beneath the series of long angry gashes that ran diagonally across the skin from Don 's shoulders to his waist. After the long, hot shower the scabs that had covered them had softened and some had come off, leaving the wounds bleeding in places.

The reality of what he was seeing confounded Charlie into silence as his shocked mind tried to process what could have caused the injuries. As the realization hit him like a sledge hammer, his breath caught in his throat. They had whipped his brother. Really whipped him...and from the number of cuts he could see, it was astounding that Don had survived.

"...God, Don."

Turning at the sound of his brother 's voice, Don froze at the look of horror on Charlie's face. Recovering quickly, he pulled the tee shirt over his head to cover the cuts that marred his back and stepped up, taking the stack of sweatpants from Charlie's hands.

"Thanks, Buddy."

Charlie's silence spoke volumes as Don turned away and put the pants on top of the dresser. Moving to the bed and sitting down on the edge of it, Don waited for Charlie to say something. But his younger brother remained still and speechless, only moving to steady himself on the door frame.

When Don had turned, Charlie could see red streaks across the back of the white tee shirt where the open wounds were seeping, as well as a pronounced limp in his left leg. Now, looking over him from the front, Charlie could see what appeared to be some kind of blistering on Don 's left hand as well as marks around both of his wrists that appeared to be a pretty severe case of rope burn. His right hand was also wrapped with a fresh gauze bandage around the knuckles, so he couldn't see what damage was hiding there.

Without saying a word, Charlie abruptly turned and left the room.

Not knowing what to think, Don sighed heavily and dropped his head to his chest. He hadn't intended for Charlie, or his father, to see this. Telling them what had happened to him was one thing... something that he knew he would have to work his way up to. But, allowing them to see it firsthand was something else altogether. Shaking his head angrily at himself for forgetting to close the door tightly, Don considered going after him. Quickly deciding that the explanation would take more time and energy than he had available at the moment, Don stood and moved to pull the sheet back on the bed.

"Take that shirt off."

Charlie re-entered the room, closing the door tightly behind him and Don turned to face him.

"I'm all right, Charlie."

Tossing the clean tee shirt in his hand onto the top of the dresser next to the stack of sweatpants, Charlie lifted up the first aid kit he was holding.

"No, you're not. You're bleeding. Now take the shirt off and sit down."

Don opened his eyes wide in astonishment at the authoritative command in his younger brother's voice, but he silently obeyed. Holding the shirt, he was surprised to see the bright red smudges on it. He had become so accustomed to the pain in his back that he hadn't even realized that it was bleeding again.

Before they had gotten on the plane at Guantánamo to head back to Los Angeles, Colby had insisted that he see the MD at the Naval Base. It had delayed their return by almost a full day, since the doctor had required lab work. Still, he had dressed the wounds and filled Don full of more than enough antibiotics to head off any possible infection. From the incessant inch, he had figured that the wounds were well into the healing process, but with the desire to scrub off the filth from the last three months he must have washed himself more vigorously than he had intended to and inadvertently re-opened his wounds.

Charlie sat down on the bed next to Don and indicated wordlessly that he wanted him to turn so that he could have access to his back. More than a little surprised to see this side of his younger brother, Don obeyed. Charlie was acting more like their father than he had ever imagined possible. In a way he wanted to simply throw him from the room and demand to be left alone so he could acquire the sleep he needed to face the interrogation that he knew would be coming. Still, he remained motionless as Charlie went about the business of opening the first aid kit in silence. He knew his brother's mind was teeming with questions and Don wondered when the inquisition would begin.

Ten minutes later, when Charlie closed the first aid kit, he was still wondering.

Several large gauze bandages had been affixed to his back with medical tape and Don had found an unexpected lump growing in his throat as Charlie had disinfected and dressed the wounds. For reasons he could not explain, he felt more cared for than he had ever felt in his life. His mother and father had certainly cared for him as a child, doing more than any parent's share of nursing injuries, especially with his affinity for sports. But somehow, having Charlie step into the role with so much authority and confidence struck a chord deep inside of Don and, once again, he realized just how much he had missed his family and how badly he needed his brother to talk to.

Now, he just wished that Charlie would say something... anything. He wanted him to yell, or cry...to demand answers...the way their father would. Instead, Charlie stood and walked to the dresser, reaching for the navy blue tee shirt that he had deposited there.

Sitting back down on the bed, Charlie looked more closely at the marks marring the skin on Don's wrists. He seemed to be mulling over whether or not they were, in fact, rope burns...and when he handed the shirt to him, Don expected the questions to come pouring out of his brother; demanding to know what had happened to him in Colombia. And after everything he had learned about Charlie's own trials and tribulations, he felt oddly relaxed about telling his sibling some of the details of which he had initially intended to keep to himself. But Charlie surprised him with a question from left field.

"Does Dad know?"

Don shook his head mutely and waited for the next question. Once again, Charlie caught him off guard.

"Who is Daniel?"

"What?"

Don met Charlie's eyes, unable to hide the stunned look on his face. That was the last thing he had expected to be asked.

"How did you..."

"You called out his name in your sleep."

Don heaved a deep sigh and looked down at his hands for a moment. In his waking world, the guilt was buried deep but it rose quickly to the surface with his brother's simple question. Pausing to pull the clean tee shirt gingerly over the fresh bandages on his back, he took a few seconds to gather his thoughts before answering.

"He was a young man who didn't deserve to die, Charlie."

He paused for a moment, not intending to say anything else on the matter. Still, the need to unburden himself was stronger than his will to keep the details to himself and he knew, more so than ever before, that Charlie would be able to handle the things that he could never share with their father. Nodding his head as if in affirmation of his decision, Don continued.

"Daniel was young and idealistic. In that respect, I guess he reminded me a little of you. Only he was a thief and an addict."

Charlie smiled slightly and nodded, encouraging Don to go on.

"From the way he told it, his whole life seemed to be a giant series of mistakes that got worse every time he tried to fix them. I don't think he was really a bad person...not deep down...you know?"

Charlie stopped nodding and looked hesitant. Don knew that hearing a phrase like that come out of his mouth sounded foreign enough to him…he couldn't imagine what it must sound like to Charlie, so he felt compelled to explain his reasoning.

"He was a user, but he had a good heart. He wanted to do the right thing and he was ready to jump on any chance he could find to redeem himself...even if it was only in his own eyes."

Twisting sideways, he looked intently at his younger brother, almost begging him to understand the point he was trying to make.

"He'd been trying to get out, Charlie...he just couldn't find his way. Does that make sense?"

Nodding with more conviction this time, to indicate that he understood, Charlie pulled himself to his feet and walked to the desk across the room, pulling the chair out. Don continued as Charlie lugged the seat across the room so he could sit directly across from him while he talked.

"Most of the folks who worked for Valdario were just regular people... some of them decent people, who were just down on their luck. A few were addicts, like Daniel. Some were um...fleeing something else entirely and a few were simply born into it. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of truly foul men working for Valdario. But most of them are for security to keep the harvesters in line."

"Harvesters? So you were actually out in the..."

"..in the fields, yeah. Its hard to get good help for manual labor like that."

Don smiled, but his attempt to lessen Charlie's concern with humor did little good and his younger brother's face remained stoic as he asked another question.

"Coca?"

"No...not there. Papaver."

"Poppies...really?"

"Opium is in higher demand now than it ever has been, Charlie. Particularly on the west coast. The heroin from those Tems labs we busted; came straight from Valdario's Colombian paradise. I met the chemist that cooks the stuff down to grade four when Valdario moved me into the lab."

"You...you were in the lab...where they made that...that stuff?"

Don's internal resolve to be honest with Charlie led him to answer the question without thinking.

"Yeah, when my cover was leaked they sent all the Americans down to work in the labs."

Charlie's mouth fell open.

"What?! Don...when did that happen?"

Shaking his head, Don sighed and leaned over on the bed placing his head in his hands. He suddenly felt as tired as he had when he'd walked out of the garage after his conversation with Megan and his father. He just wasn't up for a third go-round on that part of the story...not today.

"Charlie, I don't..."

Looking guilt ridden for allowing his anxiety to escape, Charlie stood back up.

"You don't have to tell me anything, Don. I'm sorry."

"No...I just...I..."

Pulling himself to his feet as well, Don gave his brother a pleading look.

"Listen, I don't want to get into all the details on it right now, okay? I'll tell you the rest later….all right?"

Charlie nodded slowly, and then moved back to the chair. Don followed suit and got settled back on the edge of the bed before he continued.

"About four weeks ago something tipped them off that I was there."

Although he remained silent, Charlie looked even more horrified than before and Don exhaled in exasperation at his own lack of tact.

"They didn't know it was _me_, Charlie...but they knew someone had gotten in. So they took it out on everybody. All the American guys who were out in the fields, including me, were all brought inside where the guards could keep an eye on us. They put us to work in the labs."

Charlie still looked horrified as he glanced at Don's blistered left hand, but when he spoke his voice was surprisingly calm.

"So, that's pretty, um….dangerous, right?"

Don nodded.

"Yeah, it can be. The chemicals they use to purify heroin are highly explosive."

He waited for Charlie to ask for details about his hand, but no more questions came.

"It really doesn't take much skill to refine opium into heroin, Charlie. Not until you reach the final stage...that's when things get combustive. It's the actual product you have to be weary of. It's a fine powder...one little spill and it gets in the air, on your hands...everywhere. They didn't bother with protective gear and a lot of the guys who were forced to work in the labs for extended periods….."

He paused, afraid to say anything else, but Charlie finished the sentence for him.

"They died."

Don nodded to confirm the statement as he went on.

"...and the ones who didn't...well, by the time he took them off lab duty, they were hooked. It served his purpose since it was easier to pay them in product than in money...money that they needed to pay of the debts that brought them into the service of that bastard in the first place."

Thinking of Valdario, Don shook his head in disgust.

"That son of a bitch was making indentured servants through addition."

Charlie tilted his head slowly to the side and when Don met his brother's eyes, he could see the question that Charlie was trying hard to hold back. His younger sibling's fears were so clear to him that he actually found himself smiling. His father had been right…..there was nothing short of death itself that was going to break this bond.

"Charlie…I'm fine. Nothing that required detox, okay?"

Charlie nodded and tried to return his older brother's smile.

"Listen, Charlie..."

Don paused for a minute, pulling himself to his feet and crossing the room. Cocking his ear to the door he turned back to look at Charlie. As if reading his mind Charlie lifted the edge of his shirt to reveal a small electronic device attached to the waist band of his jeans.

"Baby monitor. He's still sleeping. And Dad's downstairs. He thought he'd put on a brisket before we left for the doctor's office...you know, for whenever you woke up."

Don walked back to the bed and sat down once more. A look that hovered somewhere between guilt and relief washed over his features.

"Look, Charlie, what I'm about to tell you..."

Cutting him off, Charlie nodded.

"Not a word to Dad."

"I guess you've gotten used to me saying that, huh?"

Charlie shrugged his shoulders and Don's mouth turned up in a thin smile.

"I spent most of the morning trying to avoid telling Dad some of this stuff, Charlie. I didn't keep everything from him, but there are just some things I don't want him to worry about and...…"

Cutting him off, Charlie moved to pull himself to his feet.

"You should probably just get some rest, Don. We can talk more later, if you………"

"You asked me who Daniel was and I'm trying to tell you...okay?"

Don's harsh tone put Charlie back in the chair again.

"Okay. Okay, I just…"

"I need to tell this, Charlie. All right?"

This time, Charlie just nodded silently and Don ran his hand over his face, almost ashamed of his outburst. For some reason, he now felt helplessly and desperately compelled to tell Charlie about Daniel.

"I was trying to tell you what a great guy he was….but I guess he was pretty messed up too. They say addiction is in your head…once you've got the chemical out of your system, your need for it…its all in your head. But Daniel, man, he really fought it. He physically fought them the first time they tried to move him into the labs to work. He'd lost everything to his addiction. His wife, his daughter… He said he wanted to go back to them, but he didn't think they'd take him. But he was going to try and even in the middle of all that smack... Well... He wanted to try."  
Don paused to heave a deep sigh.

"Once we get Valdario behind bars, I want to go back and…"

"Go back? Don, are you crazy?"

Shaking his head, Don searched the room with his eyes as if something within his line of sight would give him the words he wanted to say to explain this to Charlie.

"Daniel and I...we talked a lot. About our homes….about our families. Having a brother was part of my cover and I… I guess I talked about you a lot."

Charlie looked at him suspiciously.

"I was part of your cover?"

"Not you…no…just… I don't even want to explain that fabrication right now, Charlie."

"You don't…"

Charlie intended to remind Don that they could talk about it later, but his brother's next statement stopped him cold.

"It was my fault. Daniel died because of me."

In an self-conscious gesture, Don moved to scratch his beard only to come into contact with his clean-shaven face and he dropped his arms to his sides.

"He died because he found out who I was. Because he thought if I could get out of there, that I could….that Valdario…"

Don stopped speaking abruptly and looked down at his hands. And in what his logical mind told him was a sleep deprived hallucination, he could see Daniel's blood covering them both and they began to shake. Balling them up into fists in an attempt to stop the tremors, a look of pure anguish beset his features.

"I'm sorry, Charlie. I can't…you know I trust you, but I can't do this. Not now…not yet."

Don stood up quickly and swayed slightly on his feet, which prompted Charlie to stand again as well. Watching as he began to pace back and forth, Charlie knew that he should just let Don work these feelings out in whatever way he needed to, but he desperately wanted to help. He was about to say something when Don started speaking again.

"I messed up, Charlie. I got stupid and I got careless and because of me, they thought it was him. I found the information that we needed to obtain the evidence that would convict Valdario. The US delivery schedules, buyer information...even some of Valdario's personal bookkeeping was done on a PC in an office off of the main lab. It was just strange luck that I was able to get into the office and copy most of the files onto several flash drives without being seen by security. But Daniel saw me. He saw me come out of that office and I expected him to sell me out right away, but he never said a word. A few days later, they picked out a few guys to lend a hand in the fields and they chose me. Me...I mean, what are the odds of that, huh?"

Without waiting for Charlie to formulate an answer, he continued.

"I had a chance to get the information out of the compound and I was able to make it to the sight for the blind drop sight and back again without being noticed. It all went so well...but I still managed to screw up. One of the flash drives wasn't in my pocket with the others. I don't know if he took it, or if I dropped it...but Daniel was caught with it. They thought they had found their spy and he didn't tell them otherwise. They tried to get him to talk…but he….he wanted me to…."

Don was becoming more agitated as he spoke and suddenly he kicked the edge of the dresser with as much force as he could muster in his fatigued state.

"Damn it!"

Charlie moved over to the bed and sat down in the spot that Don had vacated. He was about to make another attempt to tell Don that they could talk about it later when he plowed ahead again, his voice tight.

"After they brought him back to the cellar.….they messed him up pretty good and he…he was afraid they would use the drugs the next time. He knew if they did…. He said he wouldn't be able to stop himself from telling them the truth about me."

His eyes took on a far away gaze that was filled with pain and remorse.

"He said his life was unimportant in the grand scheme of things…but that wasn't true, Charlie. Just because I had a means to put an end to Valdario….that didn't mean his life wasn't just as important as mine."

Stopping at the foot of the bed, Don hung his head.

"He was dead when they came back to question him again. They never found out that I was the one they were looking for. But they thought I'd killed him because he was the spy and he was the reason why we had all suffered so much."

Don voice was shaking now, as he continued.

"I let them believe it too, Charlie. Just to save my own damn skin."

Don sat down next to Charlie on the bed looking completely demoralized. The slump of his shoulders spoke of complete defeat. This was not the Don that Charlie knew and seeing his brother in this condition was almost more than he could stand. He could tell Don was blaming himself for the death of this man, Daniel. But from what he had just said, it almost sounded as if……

"Don…"

Charlie stopped himself and in the seconds of silence that followed, he told himself that he didn't need to ask. He knew what kind of man Don was and there was little doubt in his mind that Don would die before he would kill an innocent man just to save himself. But what little doubt that was there must have been plainly visible on his face, because Don turned away from him and answered the unspoken question.

"I didn't kill him, Charlie. He asked me to. He begged me to. But I couldn't…..I just couldn't. So he did it himself."

Both brothers turned, almost in unison, to look at each other.

"He killed himself?"

"Yeah, Charlie. I had taken at least a half-dozen flash drives from the office, so once they found the one Daniel had, it didn't take them long to realize that there were several missing. He told them that he had buried the other drives. They wanted to know where, but he wouldn't tell them. He couldn't...because his whole story was a lie. They beat him and he still stuck to his story. They figured it was his training that kept him silent. His training... But he killed himself, Charlie. He killed himself so they would never get the truth out of him."

Don paused for a moment as the pain behind his eyes became abject self-loathing. This look frightened Charlie more than anything he had seen or heard thus far. When Don spoke next it was the barest hint of a whisper, bereft of emotion.  
"I didn't stop him. I'm not even sure that I tried."

He held his brother's eyes for a moment in silence before he continued in a stronger voice.

"I just want to go back and get his body, Charlie. The FBI is trying to find out who he really was so they can locate his family to get them into protective custody until Valdario's cartel is dismantled. But when this is over..."

He shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"I just think I owe him that much, Charlie. If it hadn't been for what Daniel did, I'd be the one six feet under and he'd be going home with two dozen lashes across his backside."

Lifting his arm, Charlie touched Don gently on the back.

"Is that why this happened?"

Don blew the air out of his lungs in a rush as he spoke.

"They thought I'd killed their only source of information on what kind of lead the American government had on their operation. Valdario wanted someone to serve as an example. He congratulated me on killing the _Federale_ scum who had made our lives hell, and then he strung me up in front of everybody..."

A brief laugh escaped his lips and Charlie turned to look at him, his expression shocked. He couldn't begin to imagine what Don found so humorous about being whipped and left to die by some psychotic drug lord. Once again it seemed that Don knew exactly what he was thinking and continued without being asked.

"Well, I didn't know they still flogged people...even in South America. But apparently, Valdario is an old fashioned kind of guy. I was up there for two days and I'm almost positive they had no intention of cutting me down."

A wry smile turned the corners of Don's mouth.

"The funny thing is, Charlie... If I hadn't been hanging out there in the open, the spotters never would have known what was happening. I'd requested an standard extraction that same morning. It would have been a lot longer than two days before they realized that circumstances had changed. And without the urgency of the situation, Colby never could have gotten access to the SEAL team from Guantanamo that got me out."

Charlie sat there and stared at Don in stunned silence. He tried to imagine what it had been like for his brother to hang from his wrists for two days, bleeding from the gashes in his back, exposed to the elements and wondering how long it would take for him to die. A hard anger began to grow in the pit of his stomach; an anger that frightened him a little. In that moment he felt certain that if he were to see Valdario, he could find what it would take within himself to kill the man. But he refrained from expressing his new homicidal urges.

"How did Colby get the Navy involved?"

Don looked over at his younger brother. Charlie may have top security clearance and he may have been in touch with his team during his absence, but he obviously didn't know about any of this.

"Somebody he knew at the pentagon owed him a favor...or two from the sound of it, but he didn't tell me much. I learned a little bit about it during my debriefing, but it sounded like he was already in contact with them about something else and they offered to help him out with the Navy."

"He was talking to a friend at the pentagon about the situation with Adam's Aunt and Uncle...did Dad?"

"Yeah, He told me...I just...um, didn't put two and two together. But from what I heard from the debriefing team once I got back to LA, I'd say he pulled out all the stops and ducked under a lot of red tape to get me out of there. I haven't seen him since then, but I kinda get the impression that I owe him big time."

"You're not the only one, did Dad tell you..."

Don grinned as he nodded his head as enthusiastically as his tired body would allow.

"What he did to the back door? Yeah, I heard about that too. I still can't believe David and Megan broke the front window."

Charlie shrugged.

"I'm glad they showed up, but I still don't know why they..."

A knowing look passed over Don's exhausted features and Charlie stopped.

"Don, is there a reason why they busted into the house like that? I know you said you talked to Megan this morning and..."

"Now is not the time to explain that one either, Charlie. I'm just to damn tired. I've got to..."  
Charlie cut Don off as he pulled himself to his feet.

"You've got to lay down before you fall down, Don. I'm going to get Adam to the doctor and pacify Dad with a trip to the neurologist. We won't be gone long."

Don didn't even bother to pull the sheet back as he laid down carefully on his back.

"Does it hurt?"

Don smiled at the third question that Charlie had caught him off guard with. His initial instinct was to misrepresent the truth, but in that instant he decided that with Charlie, he would never try to shield him from the truth again. His little brother had more than proved what he was capable of handling.

"Yeah. But it's getting better."

"Can I get you anything? Water, aspirin, anything?"

Don smiled as he closed his eyes.

"Not a thing, Charlie."

As he turned to leave the room, Charlie was stopped by Don's voice, spoken in a quiet whisper.

"It's just good to be home, Charlie."

"Good doesn't even begin to describe it, Don."

Stepping from the room, Charlie pulled the door shut and stood in the hall for a moment in silence. The bedsprings from inside Don's room didn't make a sound and he knew that Don was already sound asleep. He was half tempted to open the door again, so he could hear him if he had another nightmare. Resisting the urge, Charlie made his way downstairs to the kitchen and found his father sitting at the kitchen table reading the morning paper.

"Well, he's in bed."

"It's about time."

Alan folded the paper and sat it on the table in front on him.

"I was starting to think you'd never come back down. Well, what did he tell you?"

His father's straightforward demand brought a brief half-smile to Charlie's face. He opened his mouth, trying to formulate a decent lie and then thought better of it. Don had made it pretty clear that if he wanted their Dad to know any details, that he would be the one to disclose them.

"I'm sure he'll tell you about it once he's gotten some sleep, Dad."

Alan nodded slowly, then he shrugged his shoulders. His face displayed a licit understanding that Charlie hadn't expected to see and much to his surprise, Alan didn't ask any more questions.

"Well, you'd better get some lunch, Charlie. Adam's appointment is at noon. Do you want me to go with you?"

Shaking his head, Charlie moved over to the refrigerator.

"No, Dad. I really think you should stay here in case Don..."

Charlie stopped himself when he realized he was about to propose that his brother, a full grown man...and a federal agent to boot, needed a babysitter and he felt his confidence in his older brother waver.

"He is going to be all right, isn't he, Dad?"

Pulling himself to his feet, Alan turned his eyes to the ceiling as if he could see through the floor to where his eldest son lay sleeping.

"I hope so, Charlie. I really hope so."

_**TBC**_


	15. Paying Up is Part of the Game of Life

**Chapter Fifteen: Paying Up is Part of The Game of Life**

Kneeling down behind the first car on the white baggage train, Megan lifted her shades and turned to face her team. She wanted them to see her eyes when she addressed them. The five other agents, all men, where squatted down on the tarmac behind her. She had led every one of these men in the field before and she trusted each of them implicitly. She only hoped they all felt the same way about her. Assistant Director Merrick had allowed her to hand select her team for this. With the help of David and Colby, she had been planning the execution of this warrant for over four weeks. However, for security reasons, she could not tell the squad what they were about to face...until now. Megan glanced at her watch. Less than ten minutes until execution. It was time.

"Gentlemen, I'm sure by now you realize there is far more riding on this than a simple arrest, so this one is by the books."

She pulled a folded sheet of off-white paper from the pocket of her denim pants.

"This is a federal arrest warrant for one Miguel Ramuriz Valdario."

She paused to take in the surprised expressions on the faces of the men.

"That's right, boys. It took three months of sweat, blood and tears from one of our best agents to get this warrant. Every federal agency between here and DC has been after this guy, and now the arrest is ours. The FBI needs this, so let's make it happen."

The men nodded, almost in unison. Megan could tell from their expressions that they knew just _whose_ blood, sweat and tears she had been refereeing to. It hadn't been lost on any of the tactical unit teams Don usually worked with that he had been absent for the past few months. Several of the men who occasionally had drinks with Don's core team had even inquired specifically as to his whereabouts. They had accepted the cryptic answers they had been given at the time. But now, they knew exactly where Don had been. Biting her lip, Megan pulled her .40 caliber handgun from her holster and checked her clip. The others did the same as she continued to speak in a hushed whisper.

"Listen, guys, he busted his ass for this warrant. You know he'd be here if he was in any shape for it."

She dramatically chambered the first round in her weapon, and then re-holstered it.

"But that's why he's got us...so we are going to do this right, and Valdario is leaving here in our custody, not in an ambulance. Got it?"

Five heads nodded in a hearty affirmative and Megan nodded silently in return.

Pulling the bright blue uniform jacket of a Van Nuys Airport baggage carrier on over her black Kevlar vest, covering the bright yellow lettering that identified her as FBI, Megan pulled herself to her feet. The five men remained in a low crouch behind the baggage train. Across the tarmac, she spotted Colby standing next to his equipment, wearing the same blue jacket she had just donned.

"How we doing, Reeves?"

David's voice sounded in her earpiece and Megan answered quietly into the wireless microphone, strapped to her wrist beneath her shirtsleeve.

"Locked and loaded."

"Granger?"

"We're ready over here."

"The tower just gave the captain his instructions and my crew is ready to board."

"Do you think they bought it?"

The approaching roar of a BR715 turbo fan engine kept David from answering Colby's question.

As Megan watched, two members of Colby's crew seemed to materialize from nowhere, also wearing bright blue jackets, as well as the orange vests that identified them as Van Nuys ground grew. When they moved toward the incoming jet to guide it off the runway and onto the tarmac, Megan lifted her arm again and spoke into her sleeve.

"You're on, Sinclair."

From the main terminal building, she watched David Sinclair, dressed in a suit and tie, exit the service entrance. He was followed by a seven other agents dressed in white lab coats and blue Van Nuys maintenance crew uniforms. It was not uncommon for flight crews to be detained, upon landing, for random drug testing. The FAA also maintained strict regulations concerning the maintenance and operational standards for jets like the one Valdario chose to travel in. If it landed at a foreign airport, he was subject to the rules and regulations of that port and the FBI was using that to their advantage. David was posing as an FAA official bringing a team aboard the flight for random drug testing and inspection. As per the standards of this procedure, the passengers were asked to disembark, while the crew remained on board.

They were taking a big risk in their attempt to keep the twelve-person crew of the private jet out of the way when they apprehended Valdario. To rouse his suspicions could be a fatal error for all of them. However, the loyalties of the crew were not known and the four thousand, seven hundred eighty six square feet of the plane's interior was no place to play hide and go seek with twelve unknown, possibly armed loyalists of the Valdario cartel. Moreover, it was a well-known fact that Miguel Valdario never traveled without a small compliment of armed guards.

Megan and her team had prepared for every contingency and as she looked around at the motion of the moving agents on the edge of the tarmac, she could not help but subconsciously total the amount of ammunition that was waiting for Valdario.

And despite the atypical sensation of pre-raid butterflies in her stomach, Megan smiled.

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"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but the landing strips are off limits to vehicular traffic at this time."

The young woman leaned forward to look out of the open window of the black limousine. The breeze caught her long black hair as she lifted her head to look at the man in the navy blue airport security uniform. She was beautiful and when she spoke, her voice was gentle and sincere. Her eyes, however, told another story altogether.

"Senior, you misunderstand. My father's plane is landing and I simply must be there to greet him. I am getting married, you see. He is here for my wedding."

She leaned back and indicated a young man in three-piece suit sitting next to her in the limo.

"My father has yet to meet my fiancé. A proper introduction upon his arrival is essential! And I cannot have him taking a common cab when he is expecting his limo."

With a pleasant smile, the guard shook his head.

"I'm very sorry, Ma'am…"

He leaned forward to address her male escort.

"…..Sir. But you'll have to wait until..."

"NO! I will do no such thing."

"Ma'am…"

"My Roberto….."

She motioned to the man next to her again.

"He will make you sorry if you…"

"Miya!"

The powerful voice of the man sitting next to her cut the triad short.

"Your father will wait for you. Let's go around to the public terminal. We can see your father's plane when it lands and walk out to meet him."

"But Roberto…"

"The exercise will do him good after the long flight."

Lifting her hand in a gentle, chivalrous fashion, he planted a kiss on the bridge of her knuckles.

"All is well, my love, do not let one little obstacle upset the aura of this occasion."

Miya Valdario, only daughter of Miguel Valdario, turned back to the window. Her eyes were shooting daggers at the young man in the navy blue airport security uniform, but she held her crimson lips in a sweet smile.

"Very well, then. We shall drive around."

Rolling the window up, she leaned back into the cushy seat of the customized limousine as the driver pulled the long black car around the security detail and back out onto the road. Miya Valdario did not do well when her carefully laid plans were bollixed and Robert Torres the Third could hear the dissatisfaction in the voice of his betrothed when she finally spoke again.

"Papa has been waiting so patiently to finally meet you! And he will be so pleased when we tell him that you made partner at the firm!"

"And he will be just as pleased if he hears it five minutes later."

Taking her hand in his, Robert pulled Miya across the leather upholstery and into his arms.

"Miya, my darling, it is no trouble for Lorenzo to drive around. Besides, it will mean ten more minutes alone with you…"

Still holding her crimson smile, Miya reached her hand forward to raise the window between them and their driver.

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When the jet landed, it seemed an eternity to Colby before it taxied down the runway, made its circle, and pulled up onto the tarmac under the instruction of the 'landing crew'. The armed battalion of federal agents that took the place of the airport personnel on the northwest airstrip looked enough like the real thing, that for a moment he was almost afraid they had overlooked a Van Nuys crew and had somehow managed to get civilians on the runway during what was sure to be a turbulent arrest. Breathing a sigh of relief, Colby chided himself for the anxiety that was tying knots in his stomach. He couldn't remember ever being this nervous about an operation...even the one that got Don out of Colombia. Suddenly, Colby wasn't so sure that this was the right team of federal agents to arrest this particular drug kingpin. There were more than a few of them who knew, or at least suspected, how they had managed to get their hands on a warrant for Valdario. And Colby knew he wasn't the only one who would like nothing more than to unload his clip into that bastard's chest.

"Granger."

Megan's voice pulled him out of his thoughts and Colby climbed into the empty fuel truck he was standing next to and started the engine.

As the jet came to a slow stop in the center of the tarmac outside the private hanger, Colby put the truck in drive and pulled up underneath it. Two of his crewmembers began to go through the actions of refueling the jet.

David and his team remained at the edge of the tarmac until someone from inside the jet opened the main door and began to lower the stairs. Then, they stopped a few feet from the bottom of the staircase. Megan pulled her blue ball cap, one that matched her Van Nuys jacket, far down over her eyes as a very large man dressed in a wide tailored suit began to slowly descend the steps. Two more large men, who stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stepped off to either side to act as sentinels, quickly followed him. Through their dark sunglasses, Megan could tell they were eying the supposed FFA crew that was waiting to board the plane but it didn't look like they noticed the other airport employees who were eying them with the same scrutiny. There were no words exchanged, or signals given, not that Megan could see, but within seconds, she caught her first glimpse of Miguel Valdario.

He stepped out onto the stairs wearing a dark blue Armani suit and polished dress shoes that actually glared in the sun. He was not a particularly large man himself, but he exuded a confidence that radiated off him like heat. His hair was dark brown, short and neatly combed. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but Megan could feel those eyes on her as he slowly, almost regally descended the stairs to the tarmac. Following immediately behind Valdario were four more men, also dressed in the same wide shouldered suits.

All of their carefully gathered intelligence capped the number of Valdario's personal bodyguards at eight. There were seven on the ground. Megan allowed ten more seconds to pass before she reached up and removed her blue hat. At that prearranged signal, the agents that were wearing white lab coats ascended the stairs into the jet. If the flight crew followed the standard directives during a FAA inspection, they would be waiting outside the cockpit for the inspection team.

David was two steps up the staircase, his team inside the plane, when he turned back around and faced the group of people on the tarmac. Colby stepped away from the fuel truck and moved forward, remaining concealed behind the landing gear, while Megan crossed the blacktop toward the well-dressed leader of the Colombian cartel.

The uncustomary actions of the supposed Van Nuys ground crew set Valdario's guards into action. In an almost simultaneous motion, they each reached inside of their suits and fingered the weapons they had hidden underneath as they moved to form a barrier around the drug lord. The group of black-clad agents behind the tram jumped to their feet and Megan pulled her jacket open to reveal the black vest beneath as she pulled her badge and extended it at arms length in front of her.

"FBI, don't move!"

That was all Valdario's men needed to hear and their weapons were drawn. Every agent on the tarmac responded in course and directed their weapons at the group of armed men.

A long moment passed as the FBI team faced off with the cartel guards, each group waiting for the other to take the first shot. Megan continued to move slowly toward the group, her badge still held high with her left hand, a .40 caliber pistol gripped tightly in the other.

"Miguel Ramuriz Valdario, we have a warrant for your arrest. Tell your men to lower their weapons!"

This only caused the cartel guards to raise their weapons a little higher and move in closer to their boss. Valdario had lowered his head slightly, his eyes boring a hole through her over the top of the dark sunglasses he wore, and Megan felt her blood run cold. For a moment, but only for a moment, Megan could imagine every bullet she had carefully loaded into her clip tearing through that man's body.

Reaching slowly toward his face, Valdario removed his sunglasses as he locked eyes with Megan. He was about to speak when a shrill vocalization rang out from the direction of the terminal.

"Papa!"

It was a scream more than anything, and it was followed by another string of words that were barely intelligible over the woman's heavy accent and the anger in her voice.

"What are you doing to him?"

David had stepped down from the stairs when the guards had pulled their guns and as she reached the perimeter, he took a large step forward and grabbed the petite woman around the waist. She immediately turned and lashed out at him like a wildcat.

"Release me! You have no right to touch me!"

Rather than punch her in face, as he would have done with a man, David pulled her closer to his body so he could effectively restrain both of her arms without inflicting damage on the angry, struggling female.

The sudden appearance of Valdario's daughter seemed to take his bodyguards by surprise and they lowered their weapons slightly. They obviously had very direct instructions when it came to the safety of their boss, but as Miya continued to struggle, a few of them seemed to be contemplating leaving his side to defend the young woman.

"Miya!"

Valdario's booming voice brought them back to their senses and they raised their weapons again, each man choosing a target.

"We have a warrant! Tell your men to lower their weapons!"

Megan yelled her warning again as Valdario turned toward David.

"Do not hurt my daughter!"

David now held both of Miya's wrists in his hands and he had twisted her around to that both her arms were wrapped around her own body. No longer able to physically fight as she had, the woman again began screaming.

"Let go of me, you bastard! Papa!"

Everyone was so enwrapped in the spectacle, not to mention focused on the guns aimed in their direction that no one noticed a second figure cutting across the tarmac. From his undisclosed post beneath the airplane, Colby could see a stout looking young man barreling straight toward David and the struggling woman.

Making a judgment call, Colby darted out from behind the fuel truck and moved to intercept the impending threat. The sudden movement of the FBI agent caused the cartel guards to redirect their guns, once again unsure of what target represented the primary threat. It was now clear to them that they were surrounded from behind, as well as the armed contingent in front of them, and they held their fire. Colby moved like a linebacker and threw his body at the charging man, tacking him center mass and knocking him to the ground before he could reach the other agent and his female detainee.

Megan, taking advantage of this momentary confusion, moved forward quickly with her gun extended in front of her. She was less than six feet from the nearest guard, when he turned and leveled his own weapon at her forehead.

She stood there for a moment, staring down the barrel of his .38 caliber handgun, and giving him plenty of time to notice that Valdario was getting a good look down the barrel of hers.

"Senior Valdario, this is going to get ugly very quickly. Tell your men to put their weapons down!"

Valdario flitted his eyes toward his bodyguard, then back again.

"I am betting my man can pull his trigger before you can pull yours, chica."

Megan could see the fire in the Colombian's eyes as he stared her down and she fought to maintain her own unwavering glare.

"Are you willing to bet your life on that?"

When Valdario raised his head proudly, as if accepting a challenge, Megan forced herself to smile at him.

"And are you welling to bet your daughter's life, asshole?"

"Are you threatening me, Agent?"

"No, Sir. I am not."

Megan was almost surprised at the steel in her own voice as she continued to address the drug lord.

"But, look around you. There is an awful lot of fire power out here…"

She shrugged her shoulders, trying to look dispassionate and succeeding.

"And she _is_ assaulting a federal officer. To do so on account of, or in retaliation for his discharge of his official duties...well, we _are_ talking about a felony charge. That's a mandatory prison sentence in this country, Miguel."

Megan's words were drowned by Miya Valdario's screeches, as she continued her struggle against David's strong arms.

"You have no right to do this! My father has done nothing!"

Another voice from somewhere near David's feet called up.

"Let me up! I've done nothing wrong!"

The young man Colby had pinned to the ground was struggling to lift his head, as the brawny agent twisted his arms behind his back.

"What right do you have to apprehend this man?"

Colby hauled the young man roughly to his feet.

"We have a warrant, amigo. All we want is him."

All eyes turned to Valdario. He gave his legion of bodyguards a sweeping glance before he locked eyes again with Megan.

"Release my daughter, and I will come with you quietly!"

"No, Papa! They have no right to take you!"

Much to the surprise of the group of federal agents, the man Colby was restraining spoke in their defense.

"They have a warrant, Miya. There's nothing we can do."

Valdario stepped forward, actually moving himself closer to the barrel of Megan's semi-automatic handgun. He was still behind two of his armed sentries who where standing shoulder to shoulder, one of whom was still aiming his weapon at Megan's forehead. Valdario put his hand on the man's shoulder to direct him to lower the weapon, and then he turned to face his daughter.

"Miya! Listen to me. Hija, le ordeno a que pare el luchar ahora! Vaya a casa y espere mi llamada." _**(1)**_

Colby continued to hold tightly to the young man's arm as he turned toward the woman.

"Utiliza la cabeza, Miss Valdario. Do what your father says." **_(2)_**

The dark headed young woman stopped struggling against David's grip. Keeping her eyes on her father, she lowered her head submissively at him and he nodded his approval.

After several moments and an affirmative nod from Megan, David relaxed his grip on Miya and she stepped away from him, lifting her chin proudly into the air.

As Valdario's men lowered their weapons, the team of federal agents moved in to disarm them. David and Colby remained next to the young couple to assure they did not attempt to interfere and after a moment, Robert put his arm around his bride to be and called out to his would-be father-in-law, just as Megan secured her handcuffs around his wrists.

"We will call Sebelli, Sir. He will meet us there."

"Yes, Papa, he and Roberto will have you free in hours!"

Colby turned to face the young woman and gave her his sweetest smile.

"Oh, I doubt that very much, sweetheart. You're father will be damn lucky if he ever sees the light of day again."

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Charlie twisted around in the front seat of his car to look at Adam. The child was slumped in his car seat, the five-point harness holding him firmly in place, while his head lolled to the side. His eyes were closed and the sounds of his deep, rhythmic breathing filled the interior of the vehicle.

"This means no one sleeps tonight, doesn't it?"

Without so much as a twitch, Adam went on napping. With a smile, Charlie turned back and waited for the light to change to green. The appointment with Adam's pediatrician had gone much better than he had expected. The baby's ears were fine, no infection, which was quite a relief. Charlie had heard Becky complain about trying to give her children medicine and he wasn't looking forward to the experience. It was hard enough to get a spoonful of cereal into Adam's mouth without ending up with half of it in his hair.

Even so, Charlie wasn't fully satisfied with the doctor's explanation as to why Adam had spent the whole night crying. Crying for the sake of crying was not something that rang true to him and Charlie left the pediatrician's office feeling as if he needed to seek a second opinion. Still, this particular pediatric MD had been present at Adam's birth, and had been his doctor ever since and Charlie didn't feel right about switching him to a new doctor now. As the light turned green, Charlie applied the gas and turned left, heading for home. His father had told him that sometimes babies have bad nights, and the doctor had parroted that sentiment almost word for word. Smiling to himself, Charlie decided that he still had a lot to learn about being a father.

As he navigated his way through Pasadena traffic, a thought occurred to him that wiped the smile off his face.

'_When did I start thinking of myself as a father?'_

It was a sobering thought and as Charlie pulled into his driveway, his mind wondered back to his neurologist's office.

"_You're son is adorable!"_

"_Oh, he has your eyes!"_

"_Thank you."_

Usually his first reaction was to say that Adam wasn't his. This was the first time he had accepted the compliment as his own. The two women who worked in Doctor Davidoff's office had gladly watched the baby sleep while Charlie had undergone an EEG. Luckily, a patient who had been scheduled for a full neurological workup had canceled his appointment earlier that morning and they had been able to get him in. It was preferred that the patient be sleep deprived and since Charlie has essentially stayed up all night anyway, they were able to go ahead with the scan. The rest of the neurological evaluation would have to take place a few days later, after they had the results of the EEG and they had to schedule a second visit for later in the week. Handing him a small rectangular business card with the time of his next appointment written on it, the younger of the two women at the desk had handed him a second card.

"_If you ever need a babysitter...for him...or for you...Call me."_

She had flashed him an amorous smile, but Charlie had completely missed the underlying meaning in her offer. As he opened the door to pull Adam's carrier seat from the back of his car, Charlie suddenly realized what she had meant.

"And to think, I thought Colby was kidding when he said you'd be a chick magnet."

"Lee Lee, ah wa?"

The loud voice called out to him from the seat he was carrying and Charlie looked down at the smiling baby.

"Ah wa to you, too, Adam."

As they entered the house, Adam continued to talk in a happy, high-pitched voice. All traces of his earlier fussiness and fever were gone and Charlie had to admit that maybe the doctor and his father were right. Sometimes babies just had bad nights.

Being mindful of his brother sleeping upstairs, Charlie quickly changed Adam's diaper. Heading back downstairs, he stopped for a moment to assure his father than his head was undamaged, and then took the baby out into the backyard to play. It was warm and the sun was shining. It was a beautiful afternoon. In fact, it was the first truly beautiful day Charlie could remember in quite some time. He sat Adam down in the tall grass and allowed him to crawl freely though it. Lowering himself to the ground as well, Charlie made a mental note to get the yard mowed soon. Hoping that the yard was the only thing he had neglected to this degree over the course of the last three months, Charlie lifted his eyes to the second story window with the blinds tightly closed. Somehow knowing who lay sleeping in that room made everything out here so much easier to face.

"Charlie, are you out here?"

The sound of Amita's voice from around the front of the house brought Charlie's attention back to ground level.

"Yeah, we're out back."

He glanced at Adam, who was sitting on the ground next to him looking thoughtfully at a blade of grass he had plucked from the lawn.

"Amita's here, Adam."

The child lifted his head, looking disinterested and Charlie grabbed him around the waist and pulled him into his lap. Although Amita has spent more time with them in the past few weeks than almost anyone else had, Adam had yet to take to her and Charlie was afraid that it was going to hurt her feelings if he did not at least seem happy to see her.

As Amita rounded the corner and headed across the backyard, she began to laugh. Charlie had rolled onto his back and was holding Adam up above his body jiggling him from side to side. Adam was squealing with delight and Amita stopped a few feet away and crossed her arms over her chest.

"If I only had a video camera… That is a perfect set up for a great shot of baby spit up in the face, Charlie."

Rubbing his thumbs gently on the baby's side to tickle him, Charlie raised his eyebrows comically.

"You wouldn't do that to me, would you, Adam?"

Adam turned his head toward Amita and grinned.

"Okay, maybe he would."

Charlie gently set the baby down in the grass as he rolled over and got to his knees. An unexpected wave of vertigo washed over him and he swayed precariously for a moment, bringing his hands down in the soft grass to steady himself.

"Charlie!"

Amita moved quickly to his side and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Are you all right?"

The dizziness passed quickly and he sat up on his knees.  
"Fine. Still a little dizzy, I guess."

"Megan called Larry this morning and told him about what happened."

Charlie moved to stand up and Amita grabbed his elbow to help haul him to his feet.

"Are you sure you are going to be okay, Charlie? I mean, you have been hit three times..."

He turned toward her and put on his best smile in spite of a newly developing headache just over his right eye.  
"I have been fine all afternoon until just now."

His smile wavered as the dizziness heightened.

"To be honest, things are still a little fuzzy at the moment, but it should pass in a few minutes."

Still holding onto his arm, Amita glanced at the ground to check on Adam. The baby was only a few feet away and he was now thoroughly occupied with a small tuff of crab grass that he was struggling to pull out of the ground.

"Larry's inside talking to your father. He said you took Adam to the doctor this morning."

Turning back to him, Amita's eyebrows furrowed with worry when she saw a grimace of discomfort on his face.

"Charlie, if your vision is fuzzy and you're having dizzy spells, you shouldn't be driving at all."

Charlie looked up at her, feeling irritated in spite of her genuine concern.  
"I just told you that I was fine. Look Amita, do you really think I would take chances with Adam like that?"

Amita lifted her shoulders in a light shrug, as if she were unsure that she could definitively answer that question. Feeling vexed, Charlie was going to respond but stopped short when Larry and his father came outside, onto the patio. Larry narrowed his eyes, as if gauging something, and then turned to Charlie.

"Charles, they announced today that pi is exactly three."

Charlie bent down carefully and scooped Adam up in his arms.

"Not funny, Larry."

Larry clasped his hands together in front of his chest and smiled.

"Yes, well, just making sure you still had your wits about you."

Charlie couldn't help but notice how closely Amita was watching him as he climbed the steps to the patio and he turned to face her with a defiant stare.

"Larry, my wits are substantially more intact than they've been in months. In fact, I feel marvelous."

As if to reiterate his point, Adam joined in.

"Aba da a wa."

"And so does Adam. The doctor said his ears were fine and the fever's gone."

He turned to his father.

"Can you hang on to him for a minute? He's got to be hungry by now."

With a nod, Alan took the baby from Charlie's arms and walked out into the yard.

"Why don't you just bring the high chair out here, Charlie? It's a beautiful day and…."

He didn't finish the thought out loud, but Charlie knew what his father was thinking. They had both been tiptoeing around the house since Don had gone to bed and neither was willing to risk waking him from his much-needed sleep.

"I'll go get it."

Amita stepped up behind him and reached past him to open the backdoor.

"I'll help."

With nothing more than a shrug, Charlie stepped through the open door. Amita followed, leaving Alan and Larry alone to speculate what they had missed in the few minutes that they had been alone in the back yard.

-----------------------------------------

Upon entering the kitchen, Charlie immediately went to the cupboard and pulled out a jar of baby food and a small bowl with a suction cup on the bottom. Amita stepped up beside him and stared at him pointedly until Charlie finally had no choice but to turn and look at her.

"What?"

"Why did you just lie to your dad and Larry?"

"What?"

"Charlie, I can tell by your eyes, you don't feel 'marvelous'. I'd say you probably can't even summon up a 'mediocre'. You're head hurts, doesn't it?"

Dropping his shoulders and sighing, Charlie set the baby food jar down on the counter.  
"Look Amita, I went to see that neurologist this afternoon. They did an EEG, I'm going back the day after tomorrow for a full workup and examination. I am not making light of this or my health, but the smothering is starting to get to me a little."

Before she could accuse him of making everything all about him, Charlie continued.

"There are things that you don't know, Amita...things that I can't tell you. But right now, I need to be here for Don. And so does Dad."

"But Charlie, if you can't..."

"I can. I'm really okay. I _am_ an adult; I _will_ take care of this. I will take care of myself, but there has been more than enough concern directed at me and right now, Dad needs to focus on Don. Can you understand that?"

Concern filled the young woman's eyes and she turned her eyes to the ceiling in much the same way Alan had that morning.

"He's okay, isn't he, Charlie?"

Looking doubtful, Charlie nodded as he opened the jar of baby food and scooped it out into the bowl with a teaspoon.

"I know I never got to tell you what he was doing or where, and I really still can't...not yet. But it was bad, Amita...really bad. And he needs somebody to lean on right now."

As he put the bowl into the microwave, Charlie turned back toward her. Amita was dragging the highchair from the corner over to the door, but Charlie could tell by the look on her face that she wanted to say something else and was debating whether she should.

Turning back to the counter, Charlie fished a temperature sensitive spoon from the silverware drawer and removed the food from the microwave. As he stirred, he watched the end of the small spoon turn from blue to a light lilac color, indicating that the food was too hot. As he continued to stir, he became very aware of her presence when Amita abandoned the chair and stepped up behind him.

"Charlie, I can't even imagine what it must have been like for Don. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, he was far from his family and far from his team. He's very fortunate to have you here to help him through this..."

She hesitated and Charlie turned to face her. They were so close to one another that Charlie momentarily found himself lost in her eyes, but he quickly recovered his composure.

"...but?"

"There is no but, Charlie. You're brothers and that's what brothers do, they depend on each other. Don't forget that he is there for you as well. Ever since Adam came into your life, you have had to cope with so much. You have been so busy being strong that I worry that you might forget that you deserve to have someone to lean on too."

Charlie leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips, then stepped back a little.  
"I have you don't I?"

She was caught off guard by the unanticipated sentiment and was momentarily struck dumb, so she simply nodded.

Smiling, Charlie handed her the bowl of baby food.

"Someone is waiting for his mid-afternoon snack. You carry this and I'll get the high chair?"

She smiled, nodding again, and Charlie stepped past her. Retrieving the high chair from where she had left it, he headed out the door.

Larry jumped up when he saw Charlie trying to back out of the kitchen, dragging the high chair, and he grabbed the door to hold it open. As soon as Adam saw the chair, he clapped his hands in delight and reached toward it, struggling to get down from Alan's arms.

"Dapa! Lee Lee! Dapa, Dapa."

As Amita exited the house, Larry closed the door and turned to smile at Adam.

"There is something about the unencumbered enthusiasm of a child that seems to lift all of life's burdens from one's metaphorical shoulders, if only for a brief moment."

Turning the wiggling baby around so he could hold onto him better, Alan laughed.

"Why, Larry, that's downright philosophical."

"Yes, well, I have my moments."

"Dapa! Dapa!"

Charlie crossed the patio and positioned the high chair in the shade. Amita followed him, sitting the bowl of food on the tray.

"What's he saying? What is 'Dapa'."

He and Alan exchanged a prodigious glance and a smile before Charlie answered her question.

"If I'm not mistaken, that is his vocalization for Dad. He's been calling him that since he started at the Campus Day Care while I was in the hospital."

"Now, Charles,"

Larry laced his fingers together, chest level.

"…have you considered that perhaps he is trying to say 'Grandpa'?"

Another glance was exchanged between father and son, and Alan shook his head.

"Not likely, we haven't…"

Charlie finished the thought for him as he turned and took the baby, transferring him into the highchair.

"We're keeping it on a first name basis, Larry. We don't want to add any confusion into the mix for later. 'Dapa' is just the sound he makes in association with Dad, that's all."

Larry looked quizzically from his friend to the child. Adam was grappling for the bowl, as Charlie tried to buckle him into the highchair. He opened his mouth to remind him that the most basic components of sociological study infer that the bonds a child forms during this tender age are the ones that define him, but Amita intervened, leaning forward and pushed the bowl of food onto the tray, affixing it with the suction cup, before Adam could knock it on the floor.

"Do you mind if I try feeding him, Charlie?"

Charlie turned to her; pleasantly surprised at her willingness to participate in a ritual she had wanted no part of until now.

"Yeah...sure. Do you...?"

Smirking at him, Amita took the spoon that Charlie was holding in his hand.

"Sit down...take a load off. I think I can handle this."

With a grateful smile, Charlie headed for the nearest patio chair, lowered himself wearily into it with a sigh, and closed his eyes. Except for the sounds of Adam's lips smacking in anticipation of his first spoonful, things were silent for a moment

Charlie barely had time to allow his mind to wonder before Larry loudly cleared his throat. He opened his eyes to see four pairs of eyes starting at him, including Adam's. The baby grinned and a stream of pureed veggies ran down his chin. Laughing, Charlie leaned forward and tossed Amita the clean-up cloth that he had begun to carry in his back pocket on a regular basis.

"Why do I feel like my life is turning into an episode of America's Funnies Home Videos?"

Alan pulled himself to his feet, shrugging his shoulders.

"Because it is?"

"Do tell, Alan."

Stepping around the high chair, Larry moved across the patio and took a seat on the steps.

"I personally would like to hear a little more about the events that transpired here this morning. Megan called, but she was on her way to the airport and was only able to give me a brief overview."

Airport? What was she...?"

Charlie stopped speaking abruptly, as he realized what the agent would have been doing there. They were arresting Valdario; that must be it. He had a sudden and powerful urge to stand up, walk to his car and drive to the airport as fast as the vehicle could get him there. He was captured instantly by an unbeknownst blood lust that nearly took his breath away. His hands balled up into fists and for the barest glimmer of a second, Charlie knew with utmost certainty that he possessed the ability to take a life.

Looking up, he once again saw four pairs of eyes staring at him. With the exception of Adam, who was grinning at him as he grabbed at the spoon held loosely in Amita's hand, everyone's eyes mirrored varying degrees of intrigue, concern and trepidation. Charlie looked down at his own hands and saw the indentations that his fingernails had made in his palms and a wave of frustration washed over him.

_'They don't get it. They couldn't possibly understand. None of them know what that bastard has done!'_

Instead of voicing what he was thinking and risk betraying Don's trust, Charlie bit his lip and looked up at his friends and family.

"It's been a very long day."

Forcing his face into a mask of collected composure, he continued.

"It's been a long night and day actually."

Still, no one said anything, and Charlie turned to face his friend.

"Larry, you wanted to know what happened this morning."

Seeing Charlie's need to re-direct the conversation, Larry smiled and nodded his head.

"I do."

"Well, I can't say I remember much about it. I spent at least some portion of the excitement holding my head and seeing stars. You see, Larry, my dear father brained me with the kitchen door."

Larry turned to Alan with mock surprise.

"Why Alan, you left that part out."

They all turned toward him, waiting for a response, but Alan was still giving Charlie a scrutinizing glance. His youngest son's reaction of rage and hatred at the mention of Megan's trip to the airport was not lost on him. Nor was he fooled by Charlie's attempt to divert their attention away from what they had all seen in his eyes a moment ago. He had seen that look before…many times, in fact. But never from Charlie. And it frightened him.

Charlie smiled at him, his youngest son's eyes now begging for a reprieve from the tension that had sprung up so suddenly, and Alan returned the smile.

"Well, first, picture what Donnie looks like with bushy shoulder length hair and a full beard."

As Alan began to re-cap the events of that morning, Charlie rested his head back against the chair and, once again, closed his eyes.

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**_TBC_**

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Spanish translations:

_**(1)** Daughter, I command you to stop fighting now! Go home and wait for my call._

_**(2)** Use your brain._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

A/N: There have been many lessons learned since we posted our last chapter.

First, never descend the stairs ahead of your sixty-five pound dog. They push and it hurts to fall down stairs. Things can get broken.

Second, ice storms are not commuter friendly events. Cars slide. Cars crash. Things can get broken.

Alice has a detailed account in her A/N for 'What Doesn't Kill Us' if you're interested in details.

We do hope you enjoyed the chapter, even though it was a long time coming.

Take time to comment, we love to hear from you!

dHALL


	16. Life Be, After All, Only a Waitin’

Chapter Sixteen: Life Be, After All, Only a Waitin' for Something

Charlie felt like a kid on Christmas morning that couldn't wait for his parents to wake up so he could open presents. Standing at the foot of the stairs, he strained his ears for any sound coming from the upstairs bedrooms. Adam had fallen asleep an hour or so ago, and was now asleep in his crib. In the room across the hall from the nursery, Don was still sleeping soundly and from time to time, Charlie could hear a soft snore coming from behind the closed door. The sun was starting to set, and Charlie was growing concerned by the fact that his brother was still asleep.

It had been at least eight hours since he had closed the bedroom door behind him, leaving Don alone with his dreams. Charlie only hoped the content of those dreams was improving. Remembering the blank look of abject terror on his brother's face when he had woken him earlier, only served to increase the odium he harbored for a certain South American drug lord. Shaking off the oppressive feelings, Charlie took two steps up the stairs, and then stopped himself. As badly as he wanted to spend time with his brother, he didn't want to wake him, so Charlie turned and tromped back into the dining room.

"Charlie, if you don't sit down..."

His father was sitting at the table, a stack of blueprints and papers spread out in front of him and he looked up in annoyance as Charlie crossed the room yet again.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I just..."

"He hasn't slept in days, Charlie. It's not surprising he's still in bed."

Looking sheepish, Charlie pulled out the chair opposite his father and lowered himself into it.

"I know. I just..."

Leaning forward on the table, Charlie put his head in his hands.

"It's all I can do to keep from opening up that bedroom door every five minutes just to make sure he's really there..."

He lifted his head and gave Alan a pathetic look.

"...you know?"

"Charlie, I'm his father. Of course I know."

Alan stood, and began to roll up the blueprints.

"Dinner will be in about an hour. Find a way to distract yourself, Charlie."

"Easier said than done."

Charlie smiled, feeling foolish for his impatience.

"I guess I've got some work I could do in the garage."

Alan grabbed the baby monitor from where it had been left on the table and held it out for him.

"Take this with you. You've got it up so loud I can hear Don breathing through the wall."

Snatching the monitor from his father's hand, Charlie gave him a good humored, contumacious glare, and turned the volume on the monitor up a notch higher.

"I know. That was kind of the idea."

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Don opened his eyes and found himself staring at a familiar looking ceiling fan. He felt slightly disoriented and it took him a moment to remember where he was. He watched the slowly rotating blades for several minutes before he pulled himself into a sitting position. An insatiable itch assaulted his back, and he twisted his arm around in an attempt to scratch, but was unable to reach the spot without discomfort. The cutaneous sensation was a little maddening and Don quickly decided that must have been what had roused him.

Looking around his old room, he allowed a wave of nostalgia to wash over him. He could almost hear Charlie, five years old and full of boundless energy, running up and down the stairs. It had become a regular morning ritual for the Eppes boys during the summer months. Charlie would wait in anticipation, ball and glove in hand, hoping for a game of catch. It was the only way he had found to spend time alone with his big brother, before Don ran off to play with his own friends. The innocence of the memory struck a chord deep inside of him, and he felt moisture prick at the backs of his eyes. Rising gradually from the bed, he stiffly made his way to the door and opened it; almost expecting to see the unruly head of curls and a pair of huge brown eyes waiting.

As he stepped into the corridor, a sound from across the hall drew his attention. Moving toward the spare room to investigate, Don had to stop and get his bearings when he saw the nursery furniture that filled the room. He had forgotten for a moment about the baby that his brother had been caring for. The sound that had drawn him to the room was coming from the crib and he quietly stepped over to it and looked down at the child. He was lying on his stomach, clutching the odd-looking toy that Don had found upon his arrival home, and wiggling around, as if he were trying to get comfortable. Standing over the crib, Don found himself mesmerized by the sight of this baby. The soft curls that covered his head were strikingly familiar, only they were blonde, rather than dark brown.

Alan had used words like 'stout' and 'solid' to describe Adam to him, and Don found himself instantly agreeing. Even in his limited experiences with babies, this one seemed large for his age.

As he stood there, Adam pulled his knees up under his body. Pushing himself up on his hands, he crawled a few inches, then stopped and rolled over into a sitting position. He lifted the toy up, looking at it and murmuring soft words that Don couldn't understand. The child had not seen him there, and Don found it fascinating to watch this little person as he talked to the toy, then held it out as if waiting for a reply. The sun had completely set outside the window, but there was light streaming into the room from the hallway. As Adam raised the toy up over his head and giggled, he caught sight of a shadow out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he trained bright blue eyes and happy smile on Don.

"Well, hello there. You certainly look well rested."

The smile faded from the baby's face as he realized that he did not know who this person was. He stared up at Don with wide-eyes and a serious expression. He didn't seem afraid, but his curious and penetrating gaze was unwavering. Afraid of making the child cry, Don was almost ready to back out of the nursery, but after a few moments, Adam solemnly held out his toy as if to hand it to the agent.

Don reached his hand into the crib to touch the toy. "And who is this?"

As soon as he got within reach, Adam grabbed one of his fingers and used it as leverage to pull himself up into a standing position. Don was half-tempted to pick the baby up, but not entirly confident in his own paternal dexterity, he was still afraid of upsetting him. So, instead, he just squatted down next to the crib.

"Does he have a name?"

They were at eye level now, with the bars of the crib between them. Releasing his hold on Don's hand, Adam had grabbed the rail. The toy was making it hard for him to hold on, so he dropped it, his attention now completely riveted on the stranger before him.

"Ow so de tu do lune da."

Don smiled in response. Although he had no idea what the child had just said, he had enunciated it all very clearly.

"Oh, is that a fact? Let me introduce myself to you, then. I'm Don; I'm Charlie's big brother."

"Lee Lee yed no bu tu!"

"Lee Lee. That's what you call Charlie isn't it?"

"Lee Lee ho ju bab. Dapa doe Lee Lee!"

Adam started to bounce up and down, holding onto the rails of the crib and laughing.

"I see you two have met."

Don stood quickly, and turned around. Charlie was leaning against the door frame and it was obvious that he had been watching the two of them interact. With a coy smile, Don shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, and he's got a thing or two to say about you."

Charlie pushed himself off the door frame and walked into the room, flipping the light on as he did. Adam turned his eyes toward him and grinned.

"Lee Lee doe bab!"

As Adam lifted his arms toward Charlie, Don stepped away from the crib to give his brother room to get by.

"What's he saying?"

As he reached into the crib and picked up the baby, Charlie turned to give Don a guilty smile.

"Honestly, most of the time, I have no idea."

Adam squealed with delight as Charlie carried him over to the changing table.

"He calls me 'Lee Lee. I think 'Dapa' is his word for dad, but I have no idea what it means."

Don grinned as Charlie pulled two diapers out and moved to hand one to the baby.

"It sounds like Gran….…."

"Yeah, I know."

Charlie looked serious as he turned to Don.

"But I've never called him that to Adam. I call him Dad…sometimes Pop….even Alan."

Adam had grown so accustomed to the diaper changing routine that he eagerly awaited his diaper with outstretched hands. Don almost asked Charlie if he expected the kid to change himself. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and circled around to the other side of the changing table.

"It could be a combination of words."

"Well, it was after he started going to the Campus Day Care. Maybe it's just something he heard there. He mimics a lot of sounds."

Charlie was going about the business of diaper changing and he didn't notice Don's growingly bemused expression. Somehow seeing his brother in this ultra domestic setting wasn't something he had really prepared himself for in spite of everything he'd heard from his father about Charlie's acclimation to this role.

"I'm still learning what a lot of his 'words' mean. It's kind of like trying to decipher a foreign language that is constantly changing."

As Charlie continued to talk, Don stepped around behind his brother and put his hands on his shoulders.

"Well, you have always loved to decipher things. I imagine this has been your biggest challenge in that area."

Adam had stopped playing and was instead watching every move that Don made.

"That's putting it mildly. The variables are always changing. Just when you think you've figured it out….."

Don squeezed Charlie's shoulders and dropped his hands, moving back to the end of the table to see if Adam would continue to watch him. Grinning, Charlie observed Adam's eyes following Don as he slid a pair of denim pants over the baby's fresh diaper.

When he had heard Adam moving around on the monitor, he rushed to get him before he could wake Don up. However, when he heard his brother's voice speaking to the baby, he had slowed down, unwilling to interrupt the first meeting of the two. He couldn't quite understand why he felt such a strong desire to have Don see that Adam was a great kid and not just a fussy burden. He had been immensely pleased to see the interaction between them when he stood watching, from the door of the nursery.

Everyone who was supposed to be here, was. His world was suddenly complete and at peace. Now, it really felt like home. - Home, plus one.

Grinning, Charlie lifted the baby up into his arms and turned toward his brother. Adam was still regarding him with quite curiosity and Don instinctively lifted his finger for the baby to grab onto. When Adam reached forward to take a hold of Don's finger, Charlie moved a little closer and asked, "Do you want to hold him?"

The question incited a chuckle from Don. "Do you really think he'll let me?"

Charlie didn't answer but simply handed the baby to his brother, who had no choice but to take him.

"Really, Charlie, I'm not a baby person. I'm..."

Charlie felt his smile grow, as Don took Adam under the arms and held him out in front of him as if the child were made of some indeterminate, possibly toxic, material.

"What's the matter, Don? More comfortable holding a gun than a kid?"

Don's mouth fell open in feigned surprise at Charlie's sardonic humor. Pretending to be enormously offended, he awkwardly readjusted his hold on the baby, pulling him close to his chest.

"Well, I'm not exactly Father Goose, Charlie. This is like the second baby I've held..."

With a smirk, he shook his head at his younger brother.

"...ever. "

Charlie crossed his arms mulishly, and Don let the affronted look slip as he shrugged his shoulders lightly.

"Well, I'm not ashamed to admit I'm more comfortable holding a gun."

They both looked to Adam to gage his reaction, but the baby showed no signs of distress by the switch. In fact, it seemed that the six-month old knew that Don was Charlie's brother...or at least knew that he was 'one of them' and that thought made Charlie's grin grow even wider. Turning away from his older brother and the baby, Charlie headed for the stairs.

"Well, I used to feel the same way about chalk."

From behind him, Don called out, "And look at you now?"

"Yeah."

Looking over his shoulder, Charlie gave his brother wry smile.

"And why not?"

"Who me? Or you?"

Turning to face him, Charlie shrugged and tilted his head slightly to the side. "Either...or both?"

Don stopped in the hallway and directed his attention back to the baby in his arms. Adam looked as if he were trying to shove his whole fist into his mouth and a line of drool was starting to run down his arm.

"Well, you're doing okay with him. But Charlie, it's a complete and permanent lifestyle change and I'm not sure..."

Reaching over, Charlie wiped the drool away with a white cloth that seemed to materialize in his hand.

"Yeah, Don, I noticed."

"Emphasis on permanent, Charlie. You don't have to keep this one."

The sudden, authentically wounded look on his younger brother's face took Don by surprise and he was immediately compelled to apologize.

"I didn't mean that..."

"No, Don, you're right."

Charlie turned away from him and headed down the stairs.

"I _don't_ have to keep him. I don't _get_ to keep him. He's not mine to keep."

"I meant me, Charlie."

Stopping at the top of the stairs, Don paused as if he weren't exactly sure how he should descend with a baby in his arms.

"There's no way in hell I'd be able to give up _my life_ for some kid that doesn't even belong to me."

Reaching to bottom of the staircase, Charlie turned to look up at his brother and the baby.

"You'd be surprised what you'd do once your mind stops making your choices, Don."

Readjusting the baby on his hip, Don grabbed the handrail for support and started down the stairs, as Charlie continued.

"I'm not saying you need to turn in your badge and raise a family, Don. But, having Adam around has given me some time to consider that _my_ future could actually involve more than just...math."

"Are you for real?"

A cautious smile played over Don's face.

"Dad told me you and Amita were getting...close. Are you two..."

"No...no. At least I don't think so."

Charlie stepped aside as Don reached the bottom of the stairs and they made their way into the living room.

"We're not at _that_ point. Not yet, anyway. Besides, I'm not even sure if Amita wants kids. Sometimes she looks at Adam like he's some complex, entropic, analyzable intrusion in the macrocosm of our lives, and other times..."

Charlie stopped and turned to his brother solemnly, as if he were expecting him to finish the thought for him. But, he didn't get the chance. The hair that Don had put in a ponytail behind his neck had come lose in his sleep and when Adam noticed it, he immediately reached out and grabbed a handful and tugged. Don's eyes opened wide in surprise.

"Ow! Hey, now! You know that's attached there, my friend."

The serious expression on Charlie's face vanished and he began laughing, which delighted Adam and he pulled again.

"It's official, Don. He likes you. And he likes your hair. You'll just have to leave it long!"

Alan hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but when he had walked into the kitchen, he could hear Don and Charlie talking on the baby monitor, which Charlie had re-deposited on the table. Unable to force himself to turn the speaker off, he had ended up sitting down at the kitchen table with his iced tea, listening intently to his sons private conversation. As they had progressed away from the nursery and down the stairs, he had continued to listen in silence, still able to hear them talking through the kitchen door. He had just raised the glass to his lips to take a sip when Charlie commented that Don should keep his hair long, and he ended up sputtering his tea all over the front of his chin and coughing as he swallowed wrong.

Both men turned at the sound of their father coughing, and Charlie quickly made his way into the kitchen.

"Dad? You okay?"

"Fine...I'm fine."

The first thing Charlie saw was the baby monitor he had left on the table, now sitting next to a puddle of ice tea. Oddly enough, the front of Alan's shirt was also covered with it.

"You sure about that?"

Don stepped into the room with Adam in his arms, providing a diversion for Alan as he cleaned up his spill.

"Wow, he's letting you hold him?"

Once again, Don readjusted his hold on the baby, only this time he appeared less uncomfortable.

"I'm taking it that he's not always this good with people he doesn't know?"

"Actually, no."

Alan tossed a wad of wet paper towels into the garbage and headed over to the oven.

"He's usually leery of people he doesn't know and even some folks he does know."

Grabbing the monitor from the center of the table, Charlie turned the speaker off.

"He's used to the people he sees everyday. Me...Dad...even Amita. I'm not sure he knows what to make of Larry. I've left Adam alone with him two or three times and the last time, he cried as if his heart would break."

Don grinned at the baby in his arms.

"Who, Larry or Adam?"

"Both."

Laughing, Charlie moved to where his father was standing in front of the oven. Turning, Alan shooed him away.

"The brisket needs another few minutes. Relax. I'll set the table."

Shrugging his shoulders, Charlie turned to the refrigerator.

"Drink?"

Nodding, Don pulled a chair out with one hand and sat down, putting the baby on his knee.

"What about daycare?"

Charlie turned, shaking his head and cringing dramatically.

"The last time I left him there...bloody murder. I'm hoping he'll get used to it, though."

"Then why...?"

"You're family."

"And he knows that?"

Handing him a tall glass of ice tea and grinning at the contented baby on his brother's lap, Charlie shrugged.

"Looks like it."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The FBI offices were dark and quite. The clock on the wall, which read 11:32pm, was ticking audibly in the nearly empty room. Most of the primary staff had left hours ago and someone had shut off the lights without realizing that there was still someone working in the bullpen. With his head buried in file folders, under the single bulb on his desk lamp, Special Agent Colby Granger hadn't even noticed the mass exodus. Lifting his head, he spotted Megan, David and US Attorney Howard Meeks, still in the center conference room, pouring over video footage from every stakeout the FBI had ever conducted on any location that was even remotely associated with the Valdario cartel.

The initial interrogation had gone almost exactly as they had expected. The drug lord did little to hide his shock when he learned that the FBI had detailed inside information about his organization. He had even risen to his feet and taken a swing at Colby when he had accurately described the exact layout of the opium lab, hidden in his Colombian compound. After the burly agent had forcefully subdued the angry man, the scumbag's lawyer had quickly ended the interrogation.

The afternoon arraignment also went as expected. Just as Colby had predicted, bail had been denied and Valdario was spending the night behind bars. The young man who had been at the airport with Valdario's daughter was acting as second chair for the defense, and he had already requested a speedy preliminary hearing. The team hadn't counted on a signed confession, and they thought they were ready for almost anything that the man's lawyers might dish out. Even though they knew their evidence was solid, Howard had warned them that it would be contested.

Don would have to give testimony for the grand jury hearing, and so would the men who had agreed to testify against Valdario. Four of the members of the cartel, who had been arrested in the initial raid on the Tems Lab four months ago had agreed to testify against Valdario in exchange for their protection and a reduced sentence. Earlier that same afternoon, Howard Meeks had even tried to convince Miguel Valdario's youngest son, Juan, who had also been arrested in that raid, that he should testify against his father for a reduced sentence of his own, but the youngest Valdario had refused to even consider the U.S. Attorney's offer. Even without his testimony, the case was still solid. The evidence was solid.

They were almost assured of a grand jury indictment, and yet here they were, at eleven-thirty at night, looking over the evidence, hoping to add one more brick to the wall.

"Colby."

Megan's voice cut through his musings and Colby lifted his head again. The attractive red-headed agent was leaning out of the conference room door, waving her arm for him to join them. Pulling himself wearily to his feet, Colby crossed the bullpen.

"You guys find something new?"

"Not a thing, and you?"

"Nah. Are we calling it a day?"

"Not really."

She turned to Howard Meeks and the U.S. Attorney leaned against the table, crossing his arms. He gave her a compellingly intense look before he spoke.

"I want you guys to sit on Don."

Colby glanced from David to Megan, then stopped on Howard.

"Do you think Valdario..."

"No. Not yet."

Picking up a folder from the table and handing it to Megan, Howard shook his head.

"But Agent Reeves here seems to think we've overlooked something and I'm inclined to agree. We can't deny that at this point, the cartel is certainly trying to find out who this inside man was and I can't risk loosing any of my witnesses in this case. We've got the four guys from the Tems bust in solitary confinement, guarded by federal agents. But the guy who holds the cards is sitting alone, unprotected..."

David leaned back in his chair, hooking his feet under the table.

"Don't forget, Megan, both Don and Merrick specifically stated that unless we had reason to believe that Valdario's men.…."

"Yeah, I know what they decided. But Don's got family and Howard thinks….."

She sat down across the table from David and pushed the folder she was holding over toward him.

"The last guy who was prepared to testify against a member of the Valdario cartel refused protection. He lost his mother, his wife and both of his kids before they put a bullet in his head, David. And the US Attorney lost his indictment. We aren't talking about one of his stooges, this is Miguel Valdario and if they can intimidate..."

She paused to emphasis her point, allowing him to look over the grisly pictures in the file.

"...or eliminate the witnesses against the boss…"

Crossing the room, Colby stopped next to the table where David was sitting.

"We won't be able to get anyone for a few hours. It may even be morning. We'll have to get Merrick's..."

He stopped to glance at his partner, who gave him a subtle nod, and Colby turned back to Howard.

"We'll sit on the house."

As David stood and pulled his jacket on, he nodded his head at Megan.

"Call when you get someone to relieve us. Do we let 'em know?"

Megan shook her head.

"Not unless they spot us. There's no reason to upset Charlie and Alan if we don't have to."

The three agents exchanged a significant look and Megan rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

"Fine, I'll tell Don when I see him tomorrow."

Nodding their approval, David and Colby turned and left the room. With a deep sigh, Howard turned and picked up the folder Megan had shown David.

"I know Don won't like the decision for protection being taken out of his hands, but the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that you're right. Still, Estrada is long gone, and without him, Valdario's people couldn't possibly..."

"Yeah, the chances are minimal. I know."

Megan shook her head as she began to stack the other folders that were strewn across the table.

"But I'm not willing to be the one who asks Charlie to work out those probability figures for us, Mister Meeks. Are you?"

_**TBC**_

_A/N – Oh, yes, things are about to get very interesting. With any luck, you won't have to wait quite as long to find out what happens next. _

_Once again, we apologize for the delay in postings...but relax! We are on a roll and hope to complete the next chapter very soon. _

_Please take the time to leave a comment; we always love to hear from you. _


	17. A Fierce Game Betwixt Us and Fate

**Chapter Seventeen: A Fierce Game Betwixt Us and Fate**

As the early morning sun filtered in through the edges of the shade in Don's room, gracing his face in a warm glow, he found himself reluctant to open his eyes and cope with another day. He had been dreaming of home again and he desperately wanted to remain in that dream. Don tried to lull himself back into a deeper sleep, but something wasn't right. There were no sounds indicating the other twenty or so men who were also being held in the wine cellar with him. He was usually awakened by their snores and shuffling, either that or by a crick in his back. Instead, he felt almost comfortable...as though he were lying in a soft bed, rather than the hard cement floor of the cellar.

'_It's the dream. That must be it. I'm still dreaming.'_

Refusing to open his eyes and tear away the last visages of his only refuge, he simply lay there; trying to immerse himself back into the loving embrace of his family. An embrace, which, in his dream, had seemed so real...so reassuring.

That was when he heard it: A sound that forced his eyes open. The bright ray of sunshine that swam across his face instantly blinded him, making him squint.

'_Did I just hear a baby?'_

Don's hand clenched the pillow under his head.

'_Pillow!'_

That brought him fully awake and he bolted upright, sending a wave of vertigo through his body. The sound of a baby crying was still there. He was not lying on the floor of the wine cellar in the cartel compound. He was sitting on a bed. As his eyes focused and his mind cleared a little, Don recognized his childhood room. He heard quick footsteps outside the closed door, followed by soft shushing sounds coming from the room across the hall. He felt thick, groggy, and a little confused. Lowering himself back down, Don leaned back into his pillow, afraid that he would break the spell and wake up in the cellar if he tried to get up.

He tried to remember how he had gotten here and slowly the images of the past week floated to the surface of his mind. Three men cutting him down from the post in the garden at the compound….the look on Colby's face when they unloaded him in Guantánamo… Merrick's smug expression as he listened during the debriefing…. his father's shock and surprise at seeing him in the kitchen…. and Charlie's paternal reaction to the injuries he had sustained. He was home; it wasn't just a dream, he was really, truly home.

Charlie woke up to the sound of Adam crying and swiftly jumped out of bed. He didn't even take time to throw his bathrobe on, as he moved quickly down the hall to the nursery. Don had made it through dinner last night, but just barely, and Charlie wanted him to wake up on his own, without any help from him or Adam. It had been so encouraging to see Don, eating heartily and laughing at Adam's antics as the baby smeared his own dinner on his face and in his hair. However, every time the conversation hit a natural lull, Don's eyes would close and his head would droop forward, until he jerked it up again, fighting off his body's desire to return to sleep. After the fifth such occurrence, Charlie decided that it was past time to send his brother off to bed. He stood up and circled the table, placing his hand gently on Don's arm, which caused him to jerk his head up again.

"Come on, bro. It's time for bed."

Don looked up at his younger brother drowsily. "I'm fine, Char…."

Charlie simply raised his eyebrows, effectively cutting Don off and said, "No arguments. Bed. Now."

Lying still and silent, with the morning sun shining on his face, Don almost laughed as he recalled the evening's meal. Thinking back on it, he realized how funny it was to hear his baby brother use that voice: The voice of a parent. In addition, he automatically and heedlessly had responded to the solid, commanding tone; something he never would have done in the past. Of course, ordering him to leave the table and go to bed wasn't exactly something Charlie would have attempted in the past either.

Finally secure in the fact that he was awake, and not going to find himself back in hell if he dared to stir, Don rose and moved stealthily out of his room. As he stepped into the hall, he was astonished, once again, by the remarkable changes that had occurred in his absence. Those thoughts and feelings amplified as he stood in the doorway of the nursery; watching Charlie get his young charge dressed, using a hushed voice so as not to wake anyone else up.

Charlie didn't see Don standing in the doorway behind him as he put on Adam's pants and socks. When he slipped on the baby's shoes and lifted the child up to take him downstairs, Adam squealed exuberantly.  
"Shhh. You might wake up Don. He needs his sleep, Little Buddy."

Charlie still had his back to the door, and was surprised when Adam leaned over his shoulder, reaching his arms out.

"Non... Non."

Charlie turned, and saw his brother standing there, watching him, a reserved smile spreading across his face. Adam continued to repeat the word, as he twisted his body around so that he was facing the front. He reached his hands out again, pointing directly at Don and said, "Non... Non, Non.", then began laughing.

Charlie looked up at Don's failing attempt to contain a grin, and then back to Adam, stunned.

"Are you saying Don?"

Adam repeated the word again and Don stepped into the room, laughing as he shrugged his shoulders.

"What can I say; I'm irresistible to women and babies."

When he got up next to his brother, Adam practically launched himself at the older man and he quickly reached out and took the baby from Charlie's arms. Adam immediately grabbed a handful of Don's hair and yanked, laughing and repeating the new syllable.

Shrugging his shoulders, Charlie grinned.

"Well, to babies, anyway."

Stepping back, Charlie couldn't help but notice how much more comfortable Don seemed with Adam than he had the night before.

"This is really something, Don. He has never taken to someone so quickly and he's even saying your name! That's remarkable."

Charlie suddenly noticed that Don was still barefooted and in his pajamas.

"I'm sorry if he woke you. He is rather vocal in the mornings... afternoon... evening." Then, with a soft laugh, Charlie shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

"Actually he's always kind of loud."

"Don't worry about it, bro. I was actually already awake."  
Adam reached out for another handful of hair and Don jerked his head back.

"Hey there!"

Turning to Charlie, Don moved the baby so that he was a little further away from his hair.

"I don't know about the two of you, but I'm starving."

Looking down at the pudgy, smiling face of the baby in his arms, Don exhaled softly. The anxiety of upsetting Adam, which had made him leery of picking the baby up yesterday, had vanished, though some of the initial apprehension remained. But after watching Charlie and his father interact with Adam during the course of the previous night, Don was determined to be a part of this new, albeit temporary, component of their lives.

"Well, kid, what do you say to some breakfast?"

Charlie's smile was huge as he watched Don and Adam move out into the hallway together. The logical part of his mind knew that it wouldn't last and that he should stop feeling this way. When Adam's family came to get him, it would make it so much harder to give him up, but he couldn't help it. As he followed his brother down the stairs to the first floor, he felt a nameless emotion begin to rise in his chest. This child had completely changed his life and the way he viewed everything around him. Anxiety and a powerful sense of grief, which he tried to ignore, came a little closer to the surface. It was a feeling that, with each passing day, was becoming harder to push aside. With a dread he could barely contain, he knew that the day when Adam's Aunt and Uncle would show up to take him away would someday arrive and he was starting to wonder if he would be prepared to handle it.

As Charlie entered the kitchen, he was pulled from his thoughts when Don, who was standing in front of the highchair, asked, "Um, so...are you going to show me how to move this tray so I can get him in here?"

After breakfast, Don decided that he wasn't going back to his office, or anywhere else for that matter, with hair reminiscent of the sixties and called for an appointment at the barber shop. Some of Charlie's anxiety about letting Don out of his sight was still holding on, despite his efforts to shake it off, and he decided that he and Adam should accompany him.

As he walked into the living room to set Adam down in the playpen, Charlie said offhandedly, "We can make it easier on the agents assigned to us if we both go."

Don's jaw dropped, and he spun around to give his brother an incredulous stare. "Charlie... what... what are you talking about?"

Stepping over to the window, Charlie pulled the curtain aside and pointed down the street at the dark blue sedan parked there. Turning back, he saw Don's eyes narrow suspiciously as he tried to make out the passengers of the vehicle.

"They're agents, Don."

He continued to stare warily out the window, so Charlie began to elaborate.

"About four AM, Adam woke up exceptionally fussy. I decided to take him for a walk around the block… mainly so he wouldn't wake you."

Diverting his gaze to his brother, Don raised one eyebrow. But Charlie answered before he could ask why a walk around the block in the middle of the night seemed like a good idea.

"He's in the stroller for five minutes and he's out like a light. Anyway, I walked right past David and Colby sitting in that same spot, watching the house."

Don ran one hand through his hair, exhaling loudly as Charlie continued.

"They couldn't really hide from me, Don. I know David's vehicle and I recognized them from a few yards away. Colby walked the block with me, and he explained what they were doing there."

He paused, half-expecting Don to interrupt, but he only got a brooding look from his older brother as he continued.

"He told me Megan was getting approval from Merrick to have you put under protective surveillance until after the deposition and things with this case settle down a bit. Colby and David were watching last night on their own time, but they expected to be officially relieved at some point this morning. Since David's car is gone..."

"Yeah, I'm sure Megan got approval."

Don heaved a deep sigh, and began rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sure she had a good reason to go ahead with the protection detail, I had just hoped it wouldn't be necessary."

"Well, he said they thought it was."

Dropping the curtain, Charlie turned away from the window.

"Oh, and Colby also said to expect to see Megan in the early afternoon. I guess she needs to set up your deposition with Howard Meeks."

Nodding his head resolutely, Don looked toward the kitchen where Alan was cleaning up the dishes, then back to Charlie.

"Hey, Charlie, look...I don't want to upset Dad, okay?"

Realizing what Don was suggesting, Charlie opened his mouth to voice his opinion, but Don cut him off.

"We talked about just sticking me in protective custody, Charlie, but I just couldn't handle that. Not after being gone for so long. And, well, Valdario has a reputation for going after the families of his enemies and I'd rather be here with you guys in case..."

Charlie jerked his head toward his brother, looking alarmed, and Don cut himself off, quickly regretting his honesty. Changing tactics, he continued in a much sterner voice than he intended.

"Now, Valdario does _not _know who I am, Charlie. There's no reason for you to freak out about this."

The wide-eyed expression on Charlie's face, which was something between dismay and indignation, reminded Don of the first time he'd ordered him to keep something from their father. Feeling guilty, he softened his tone.

"Really, Charlie. Dad doesn't need to know. I'm sure that Megan assigning agents to us is just a precaution. If there were any real threat, she would have called me last night. My deposition will be a black boxed video recording so that my identity is never revealed. But, there is no way that the Bureau is going to take chances until after they get a conviction, so..."

"Okay."

Charlie's strong, yet soft-spoken interruption stopped Don in his tracks and he exhaled loudly, a bittersweet smile on his face.

"You aren't freaked out?"

"Not by definition, no. But I'm telling you Don, if this is a viable threat, then…."

"Then you and Dad will know as soon as I do."

Smiling in spite of the seriousness of what they were discussing, Don stepped up next to Charlie.

"You have the right to know if you're in danger, Charlie. I wouldn't keep that from you, or from Dad."

Any further discussion about the matter was cut short when Alan stepped out of the kitchen and into the dinning room.

"So, what are you boys planning on doing today?"

Charlie got a mischievous look in his eye and he reached out, tugging on a lock of his brother's long hair.

"Well, Don seems to think that his hair is too long."

Jerking his head back, Don slapped his hand away. With a laugh, Charlie said, "I don't know though, I think it suits him."

Shooting a dark look in his direction, Don tucked the hair back behind his ears.

"Just because you want to look like Kenny G doesn't mean I share that predilection."

"If you don't recall, Don, I have gotten quite a few compliments on my hair, thank you very much."

"Whatever, girlie boy."

Adam decided that he wanted to join in on the playful banter and pulled himself up by the side of the playpen, shouting while he bounced up and down. Charlie reached in and lifted the baby up.

"Here, Adam. Why don't you…."  
He handed the baby over to Don as he spoke.

"…hang out with the g-man here, and see if you can't get a few more decent tugs on that hair. I need to pack a diaper bag."

Adam was fine being handed over to Don until Charlie turned to go upstairs. Then he twisted in Don's arms and reached for Charlie, screaming as if he was being tortured. Don was clearly upset by this sudden change, and crossed the room, following Charlie toward the stairs. "What the heck is this all about? I thought he liked me."

Charlie scooped the baby into his arms.

"He does like you, it's just a stage he is going through."

As soon as Charlie took the baby, he stopped crying immediately and looked back at Don with a tearful smile.

"A stage, huh?"

With a sigh and shrug, Charlie turned and headed up the stairs to pack the bag.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With the exception of the dark blue sedan with tinted windows and federal plates, which followed them from their home, the ride to the barber shop was uneventful. While waiting for Don's barber to finish with his last appointment, Adam decided that all of the shiny scissors on the countertops would make wonderful toys and Charlie had to keep a tight hold on him so that he wouldn't get into anything he shouldn't. There was also some hair on the floor that Adam desperately wanted to pick up and play with, and he continually struggled to be let down. When the barber called Don up to the chair, Charlie stood up as well, hoisting Adam onto his hip. "Hey, Don, I'm just gonna step outside with him until….."

"Stop."

Don's staunch command surprised Charlie and he stopped with his hand on the door. When he turned back to his brother, Don gave him a sheepish smile. "I mean, what if he doesn't know me when I come out?"

"Well, I…"

Charlie looked taken aback, and Don quickly launched into an explanation as he lowered himself into the barber's chair.

"If he actually sees the hair get cut, then maybe he won't be scared of me when it's done. I mean, I'm going to look a little different when it's over."

The idea that his older brother was truly concerned over whether or not Adam continued to be fond of him, produced mixed feelings for Charlie.

At first, he had welcomed the fact that Adam seemed to instantaneously take to Don. But now, he wasn't sure if he wanted Don to become emotionally attached to this baby. It was becoming harder and harder for him to distance _himself_ from his young charge and Don, fresh from a psychologically draining assignment, appeared to be bonding with Adam relatively quickly, regardless of his insistence that he was not a 'baby person'. A small part of Charlie had hoped that Don would be the one to help him stay objective about Adam's ongoing, although provisional, presence in their lives.

Forcing a smile, Charlie shrugged his shoulders.

"You have a valid point."

Stepping away from the door and crossing the room, Charlie took a seat in the empty barber's chair next to Don. With Adam on his lap, he turned to his brother. Don's hair wasn't just long, it was bushy. Not as curly as Charlie's, but wavy in it's own right, and without all that hair, Adam might not even recognize him as the same man.

Looking up at Don's longtime barber, he grinned.

"Just take a little off the back, Jim."

Ten minutes later, Don rose from the barber chair looking a lot more like the man that Charlie remembered. Although the shortly cropped hair accentuated the thinness in his neck and face, Charlie was sure it wouldn't take Don long to get back to his old self...at least physically.

Adam had watched the transformation with quiet fascination and as they stepped out into the bright sunshine, he reached his arms out toward Don.

Taking the baby, Don grinned at his younger brother.

"See. I told you."

Resting Adam on his hip, Don strode past the black sedan that was parked on the curb. He knew they were being tailed by the protection detail, but he couldn't suppress the instinct to glance at the occupants of the car as he passed. He recognized both agents from the office, although he had never worked with either one personally. The two men looked away, feigning disinterest; just as they were trained to do when the subject was not supposed to be aware of their presence. Don had to resist the urge to pound his fist on the hood of the car. That would force the two agents to give up their façade and look him in the eye. It wasn't that he disagreed with Megan's choice to assign agents to him and his family, but he wanted to make it very clear that if, by some one-in-a-million chance, the cartel discovered his identity…he could protect himself. They were there to protect his family.

Chiding himself for his lack of faith in Megan's ability to properly select and instruct a federal protection detail, Don turned away from the FBI sedan and headed for Charlie's car.

Charlie was bent over in the backseat pulling up the restraining bar on the car seat when Don stepped up to the door and handed the youngster to his brother. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that both agents had their full attention focused on observing their subjects and the area around them. Megan had certainly explained to them the gravity of the situation, however remote the threat might be.

At that moment, Don was suddenly stuck with the realization that there _was _a threat to his family. The two federal agents, armed to the teeth, who were watching their every move, were incontrovertible proof of that. And regardless of how unlikely it might have seemed to him when he chose to return home before the trial, Don knew he could never forgive himself if the Valdario Cartel found their way to Pasadena.

Finding himself doubly aware of their surroundings, Don turned back to his brother.

"Charlie, why don't we go ahead and get home."

Pulling his head out of the car, Charlie closed the door and moved to around the front of the vehicle.

"Why? It's a nice day, Don."

A dark green SUV gunned its engine, speeding down the road toward them and for a split second, Don could almost see a worst case scenario play out in his imagination. But as the vehicle sped past, it made no move to swerve toward their car and there were no men with Uzi's hanging from the windows. The driver was actually a middle aged woman and Don could see two young boys in the backseat. As soon as the SUV was past, Charlie moved to the driver's side door.

"Adam and I usually go the park when the weather is nice."

As the large automobile's engine died away in the distance, Charlie opened his door and looked at Don over the top of the car.

"If you're tired, I can drop you back at the house."

Waiting a second for his heart rate to return to normal, Don opened his door as well. Charlie was just as aware as he was of the dark blue sedan that was parked right behind them. The car, with it's government plates, and it's occupants, with their black sunglasses on, weren't exactly inconspicuous in spite of their efforts to be discrete. They too had stiffened up when the SUV drove past. The agent driving the car had even gone as far as to open up his door. When he slammed it shut again, Charlie and Don both glanced toward the source of the noise, then quickly redirected their gaze back toward each other.

Fear had always been an emotion that Charlie had worn like a red letter and Don could see no sign of it in his younger brother's eyes, as he stared at him over the top of the car. Instead, he could see a stubborn fortitude that he usually associated with his fellow FBI agents, not his brother. Taking a deep breath, Don exhaled slowly as he spoke.

"The park huh?"

Charlie nodded.

"But if you're too tired……"

Don smiled as he shook off the augury experience that was fueling his hesitation.

"Who said I was tired?"

…………….

TBC

…………………………..

_A/N - It's me...dHALL. Please, permit me a moment to ramble. I have to share some good news! I sold my house in Kentucky! We signed the contract today for an 'as is' sale! It's been on the market for FOUR YEARS! _

_And so I say **Au revoir**, **Arrivederla **and **Adios **to the stress that has consumed me for far too long….._

_Back to our story - WE are working fervently on several chapters at once right now and will continue in our efforts to post more frequently! Thank you all for you wonderful, encouraging comments!_

_dHALL_


	18. Trust Your Instinct to the End

**Chapter Eighteen: Trust Your Instinct to the End**

Miya Coldovea Valdario had spent the better part of the last day and a half fighting off tears of anger and frustration. Before the disastrous events at the airport, she had been in the middle of trying to put the finishing touches on what was supposed to be the proudest moment in her papa's life….his only daughter's wedding. Now, thanks to the FBI, she had no choice but to call and cancel all of her carefully made arrangements.

The American press had immediately dug their teeth into the high profile arrest of her father. Several reporters, who _happened _to be at the airport, had the story before the FBI even managed to cuff all of the men they were detaining. They were waiting at the edge of the tarmac with their cameras when two of the agents, the woman who had talked her father into giving up, along with the son of a bitch who had grabbed her, had led her papa to their black SUV in handcuffs. Miya had protested the need for this kind of humiliation, but it did little good. The FBI seemed pleased that they were able to parade their victory in front of the press.

Robert believed it best the she remain hidden from the media vultures, so Miya had obediently allowed their driver to take her back to the secluded estate on the Palos Verdes peninsula, while he had attended to her father's legal needs. Now, as she was standing on the balcony, taking in the panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean, Miya became overtly aware that everything she had come to know and love was at risk and she was determined to find out how this had happened and who was responsible.

She had spoken to almost every trial lawyer on staff at Sabelli, Gamble and Monroe, even through her fiancé was now a full partner at the firm. She wanted details about the FBI's evidence against her father, but all she got were reassurances that Ernesto Sabelli himself would be handling the case, with Robert assisting.

Her Uncle Ramos in Bogotá offered no insight as to how, or when, the United States government had managed to get the kind of inside information they would have to have in order to arrest her father upon his arrival in the US. However, he did offer to travel to Los Angeles to give her away at her wedding if the federales really had enough evidence to make an indictment stick. His offer, although endearing, only served as fuel for her rage.

Robert had called her after the arraignment to let her know that the judge had denied bail. It seemed that the FBI had information about the compound in Colombia that only an inside man could have provided to them and Robert was certain that the USDA would continue to hound her father for more information about the cartel's other operations.

After a restless nights sleep, she had spent most of the day trying to reach her brother Marcello in Cali. Robert had returned to the estate early that morning, and was seated on the balcony, smoking a cigarette when the phone rang. Knowing it was Marcello, Miya answered with a series of rapid-fire questions about the crew at the compound and who would have betrayed them. The distant sound of Marcello's voice as he tried to answer was immediately cut off by another round of questions about what they were going to do if their father went to prison for the rest of his life. Robert listened for several minutes before he pulled himself to his feet and walked over to where she stood next to the rail, taking the phone away.

"Miya. Coffee."

The simple command from her fiancé spoke a thousand words. It was not her place to handle this…not when she had a man to do it for her.

The only person Miya had ever taken orders from was her father….but she had pledged her love and obedience to this man when she had accepted his proposal of marriage. It would shame her father and her family name if she went against his wishes, and so she reluctantly acquiesced. Stepping into the vestibule, which led from the balcony to the master bedroom, Miya could not help but stop to eavesdrop when she heard her fiancé's angry voice.

"Marcello?...

What in the hell is going on down there? How did the Federal Government get their information?

They had a warrant. During questioning, they made it very clear that they knew that compound from front to back!

...A spy? Are you sure that this spy was a federal agent?

But, you say this agent was killed? So, how did they get the information that they needed to obtain the warrants?

...Don't be a fool, Marcello. It is my understanding that an agent, who was undercover in Cali, is now here in LA. He will be giving his deposition to the USDA sometime in the next 24 hours. So tell me this, Marcello….How is that possible if the agent was killed?

A harvester went missing? When was this?...

Did you inform your father of this?...

Damn it, Marcello! Put two and two together! The real undercover operative was right under your nose! If you had warned your father, then he could have diverted and not landed here! They would not have been able to arrest him!...

I will NOT hold my tongue! Now, because of your incompetence we will have to handle this from a legal standpoint. We have already filed an injunction against the evidence and the warrants. But, there is little chance that it will be granted by a federal judge.

Do NOT try me Marcello, you screwed up and now your father is going to pay the price for it!

No! Coming here will only complicate matters! And you could easily be implicated in the charges against your father! What I need you to do, is to describe this harvester to me in careful detail...

Yes, I need to know how he came to be on the estate...

I need to know the circumstances of his disappearance. I need to know anything and everything that you can tell me about this man."

Hearing this, Miya turned away and crossed the master bedroom, descending the spiral staircase to the ground floor. Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as she caught her reflection in the line of floor to ceiling windows that lead out onto the veranda. Everything was going to be all right. Robert would take care of things.

It was about one-thirty when Megan pulled into the Eppes driveway. Don's SUV was parked up next to the garage, but Charlie's car wasn't there and neither was the dark blue sedan. She had spotted Agent Renfro, the third man in the protection unit, at the end of the block, sitting alone in the second nondescript sedan. It was the first day of their stint as the Eppes protection detail, and Megan had told them to call her if they needed a third car. Since no one had called, she assumed that Don and Charlie had left together. Glad to have the opportunity to talk to Alan alone, Megan got out of her car, discreetly tipping her head in the direction of the sentinel in the dark colored sedan.

"Megan!"

Alan's enthusiastic greeting rang out across the front yard.

"Don's not back yet. But you're welcome to come in and wait."

Any sign of the anger and resentment over being kept in the dark, which he had displayed during their conversation with Don the previous day, was gone. In fact, she hadn't seen Alan this carefree since………… Well, it had been a very long time, and it reinforced her choice to keep the protective surveillance detail from the elder Eppes. Colby had called her at five AM, waking her from a sound sleep, to tell her that Charlie already knew that they were watching the family until this whole thing blew over. He had taken it better than she had expected, but Charlie seemed to be on a roll when it came to exceeding her expectations. Smiling, she stepped up onto the front porch.

"Oh, that's quite alright, Alan. Actually, I'm glad I beat them home. I wanted to get your take on how everyone is doing. I'm sure Don told you that Valdario is in custody. The judge denied bail."

"No…he didn't. That's great news."

Opening the door, Alan ushered her inside.

"Did you call last night?"

"No, David did. I guess Don……."

Alan cut her off mid-sentence as he crossed the foyer toward the kitchen.

"The phone rang during dinner last night. Don didn't volunteer anything and I made a point not to ask. I didn't want him to upset Charlie again.

"Again?"

She followed Alan into the kitchen.

"Did they have a fight?"

"No. I think Don just needed to unload some stuff and it may have been more than Charlie needed to hear."

The obvious fact that Don had told Charlie, of all people, about anything that had happened to him in Colombia, shocked Megan

"How much did he tell him?"

"I wouldn't know, Megan, and Charlie wasn't inclined to share."

Trying to look sympathetic, Megan crossed her arms and leaned against the kitchen counter.  
"Alan, I can't tell you anything that Don isn't willing…………"

"I know."

Standing at the sink, Alan turned his back to her.

"I know you can't. I'm sorry."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Alan turned back around to face her.

"So,"

He exhaled loudly.

"Can I get you a drink? I've got tea and soda."

"Tea would be great."

Moving to the kitchen table, Megan pulled out a chair and sat down.

"How's Don's hand?"

"Fine, fine. I think Charlie helped him get a new bandage on it before they left."

Alan took a glass down from the cupboard and walked to the refrigerator.

"I guess I really shouldn't have been so surprised."

Megan was about to ask what he was referring to, when Alan continued speaking.

"They're brothers. Brothers can share things that other people can't. Don was exhausted and he needed to get some of it out. Not like he did with the FBI debriefing, but to someone he knew he could count on for support…for comfort."

With a full glass of tea in his hand, Alan moved to the table and handed it to Megan.

"I'm sure he didn't tell him everything. But, whatever he did tell Charlie has affected him."

"What do you mean, Alan?"

"When Larry let it slip yesterday that you were going to the airport, it didn't take Charlie much effort to figure out what you were doing there. I have to tell you that the way he reacted... it disturbed me."

"Why? Was he…………"

"Megan."

The both turned toward the door at the sound of Don's voice.

"When did you get here?"

"Just a few minutes ago."

Megan followed Don with her eyes as he entered the room.

"Nice hair. You look like….you. Where's Charlie?"

Don walked to the refrigerator and pulled it open, taking out a bottle of beer.

"He took Adam upstairs to put him down for a nap."

He turned to his father as he twisted the cap off the beer with his hand.

"Dad, Charlie was hoping you'd bring him a bottle while he got Adam's diaper changed?"

Alan quickly prepared the bottle, and once he was out of the kitchen, Don turned to Megan.

"Thank you….for…you know, taking care of stuff. But, you could have called me."

"You're welcome, and I was going to."

Standing, Megan crossed the kitchen and dumped the remainder of her tea into the sink, sitting the empty cup on the countertop.

"Colby and I both knew Charlie would tell you about the protection detail. I think this is the way to go right now, Don. With Valdario's history, I……."

"Yeah…yeah."

Don shook his head at her.

"Of course."

This hadn't been the reaction she was expecting and Megan turned to Don, flabbergasted.

"I…I'm sorry…but…. I thought you'd be pissed."

"Why? Because you had the sense to assign a protective surveillance unit to my family when I didn't think it was necessary?"

Megan took a deep breath and allowed a smile to spread across her face.

"Yes."

Returning her smile, Don sat down in the chair she had abandoned and took a swig of his beer.

"Well, you were right. So, now that we've got that out of the way, why don't you tell me what we're doing to keep Valdario in jail where he belongs?"

About that time, Alan returned to the kitchen. However, he quickly dismissed himself with the excuse that he needed to run to the grocery. By the time Charlie came back downstairs, Megan had just finished passing all the information she had to Don. As they exchanged niceties, she was tempted to mention what Alan had been trying to tell her about his reaction to whatever Don had shared with him, but she refrained from saying anything.

She realized that if Charlie had learned even a small portion of what his brother had been through, his reaction was probably perfectly natural and she wanted to let both of them come to terms with their feelings, without her interference.

When Charlie crossed the kitchen to the sink and began to rinse the bottle out, Megan moved to leave.

"Don, I'll let Howard Meeks know that I'll have you there to give your deposition at one o'clock tomorrow afternoon. Valdario's lawyer has already filed an injunction trying to bar the evidence gathered and rule the warrants as inadmissible, so we need to act swiftly."

At the tail end of her statement, Charlie dropped the bottle into the sink and spun around.

"What! How the hell can they get away with that? After what that son of a..."

"Charlie! Relax, will you? We knew that Valdario's lawyer would try something like this."

As he looked at his brother, Don couldn't help but study him with eyes trained for behavioral observation. Charlie's hands were balled up into fists at his sides and the muscle in his jaw seemed to twitch with each breath he took.

"The Judge will hear my deposition and make a ruling on the injunction. It's all just legal posturing, Charlie. It happens with every high profile case."

Still watching Charlie's eyes, Don couldn't help but wonder if he had made a serious error in judgment when he told his brother about some of his experiences while in Colombia. But then again, Charlie had walked in and seen the evidence on his back with his own eyes. He really didn't have much choice but to tell him what had happened.

"Charlie, Miguel Valdario won't be able to sleaze his way out of this. Everything that I did down there was by the book and as much of it as possible was documented by the spotters with video. This _will_ go on to the Grand Jury. There's no way that the judge will grant their injunction."

Don was beginning to think that he had made a huge mistake in his assessment of his brother's ability to deal with the details of his experience, but then Charlie spoke.

"Just because I'm angry doesn't mean there's something wrong with me."

Two federal agents, one highly trained in psychoanalysis, were staring intently at him and their scrutiny was almost overwhelming.

Charlie knew that his growing hatred for the cartel kingpin was painfully clear, yet he felt the need to defend his current state of emotion.

"I'm not broken, Don."

Turning away from his brother's concerned stare, he met Megan's eyes.

"And just because I am unable to hide the fact that I'd like to see Valdario pay for his crimes with his life, doesn't mean that I need to be fixed."

Crossing the kitchen, Charlie pulled the chair out at the head of table and sat down, facing his brother.

"After what he did to you... to Katrina... I watched her die too, Don. Why does what I am feeling right now surprise you?"

Don had to fight not to shift his gaze to Megan to search for a response to Charlie's confrontation. His brother was staring into his eyes and Don was determined not to be the one to look away.

"I don't know what to say to you, Charlie. I've never seen you look so angry and…. hateful. It's just not in your nature to..."

"Don, if there is one thing that I have come to a comprehensive understanding of over the past few months; it's that life is often an ugly, messy, chaotic event that comes complete with a mired of complicated circumstances and emotions to go with it."

Charlie leaned back in the chair and sighed, then continued in a softer voice.

"Just don't forget that I watched her die too. And I know that ultimately, Miguel Valdario is responsible for her death and for the destruction of hundreds of lives. He has a lot of blood on his hands, Don. And I know that some of it's yours. So, please forgive me for behaving like a normal human being and demonstrating that I am a little bit pissed off about that."

Both Don and Megan were stunned into silence as they listened to Charlie. Megan nodded her head slightly in approval of his frank honesty, but remained mute. It almost felt as if she were an intruder in the conversation as Don formed a response to his brother's tirade.

"You're forgetting something pretty important here, Charlie."

Charlie broke eye contact by bowing his head and running his hand through his hair.

"Yeah, what's that?"

"The people around you have always wanted to keep that ugly, messy, chaotic part of the world out of _your_ corner of it."

A smile lifted the corner of Don's mouth as he spoke.

"I guess it's obvious that is just not possible anymore….maybe it never was. But if I put too much on your shoulders, I'm sorry. When I talked to you last night, I had no intention of upsetting you or…."

"Don. I'm your brother."

"Yeah, and I'm yours too, Charlie."

Megan looked from brother to brother as they stared each other down, certain that a minor altercation was about to escalate. But after a few moments Charlie's face broke into a unpretentious smile. She watched as Don raised his eyebrows and Charlie nodded slowly in response as they came to some sort of unspoken agreement. Suddenly, Megan found herself wishing, not for the first time, that she had grown up with brothers. Sisters never came to an agreement of any kind without a lot more words...and generally a lot of tears.

"Well..."

Charlie pulled himself to his feet and went back to the sink, as if starting the conversation over.

"When did you say that deposition is?"

Don leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face.

"I have to be downtown at one to meet with Howard Meeks at the municipal building. You remember Howard, don't you?"

Charlie nodded, then walked back to the table.

"My appointment with Doctor Davidoff is at one thirty. I'll have to call and reschedule that so I can go with you."

Charlie saw how quickly Don sat forward, a disapproving scowl on his face, and he quickly continued before his brother could interrupt.

"Hey, I want to be there for you, man."

Don's glowering look quickly vanished and the smile returned.

"Yeah, and I want you to have your head examined!"

Megan laughed out loud and they both turned, giving her a chance to intervene.

"Charlie, I'll take him in. Besides, you wouldn't be allowed to go with him. It's a private interview. And as many times as you've been hit in the head over the past few weeks, I think you're time would be better spent at the neurologist."

Charlie crossed his arms and he turned back toward Don.

"Fine, I'll keep my appointment. But can I meet up with you afterward?"

"Works for me. Megan?"

"You won't hurt my feelings any. It should take about two hours and the USDA's office is a secure location."

Don nodded in understanding of her implication, and turned back to Charlie.

"I'll meet you outside Meeks' office about three, then. What about Adam?"

"He goes to the Campus Day Care tomorrow. We're giving them another trial run before the semester starts."

Taking a long draw from the bottle in his hand, Don nodded. He suddenly felt very tired. He wanted this whole thing over and done with, so that he could just relax and enjoy some time with the family he had thought he would never see again.

The next morning, Charlie was up and out of the house with Adam before Don even stirred. After a rib eye dinner the night before, Don had wanted to watch the game. When Charlie had received his class schedule, he saw that he would be teaching an eight AM freshman class on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. This meant that Adam would need to be up and at daycare by seven thirty at the latest, and Charlie wanted them both to adjust to that schedule ahead of time. Charlie was afraid that he would have to recuse himself from watching the game in order to get to bed at a decent hour, but Don had ended up asleep on the couch before Charlie had taken Adam up to bed. This time it had taken both him and his father to get Don awake enough to get him up the stairs and into his own bed.

Dropping Adam off at Campus Day Care turned out to be less traumatic than their last attempt. After stopping at his office, following through with what his routine would become once classes started, Charlie headed back home.

He found Don sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a hot cup of coffee and looking a little blurry eyed.

"Hey bro, how are you feeling this morning?"

"Like a lightweight."

Don looked up at Charlie over his coffee cup and flashed a reticent smile.

"I only had two beers last night. Two. And I feel hung over this morning."

As he moved to get a cup of coffee for himself, Charlie grinned.

"It was two and half beers and one earlier in the afternoon."

"Yeah, Charlie, that 'half' really did me in."

There was an undercurrent of laughter in Don's comment in spite of the seriousness of his morning demeanor. Shaking his head, Charlie lifted his cup and took a sip of the hot coffee.

"It's not really that surprising. Don. You were still overtired, you've lost some weight and you're tolerance for alcohol has been affected."

As he sat down at the table, he saw his neurology questionnaire and instruction pamphlet opened and it was obvious that Don had been reading it. He reached over and collected the papers, stuffing them in his jacket pocket.

"You slept last night; right?"

Charlie frowned in confusion at the odd question and Don pointed at the wad of papers Charlie had just stuffed into his pocket.

"It's just that one of the instructions was to stay up so that you would be tired for your appointment. It also said that you should have a ride to and from this appointment."

Alan walked into the kitchen just as Charlie turned to Don with a response.

"That was for the EEG, which I've already had done. They want you to be tired so that you will sleep through a portion of the exam. When I went in to the office, they could see that I had been up all night with Adam and took pity on me. The tech was available due to a cancellation, so they went ahead and did that part.

Alan turned to look at his youngest son.

"Charlie, why didn't you tell me this? I should have taken you to that test. There was no need for me to stay here, since your brother slept the entire day anyway."

The accusatory tone in Alan's voice, along with the fact that Don was reading his private paperwork, was starting to frustrate him. He did not want all this attention focused on him and Charlie made no effort to hide the irritation in his voice.

"First of all, I am perfectly capable of taking myself to my own appointments. I didn't know about the need to stay awake all night until I got there, and since they were willing to accommodate me at the time, I wasn't going to say no. The only reason they want someone to drive you is so you don't fall asleep and have an accident, which I _did not_. So can we _please_ drop the inquisition?"

Don sat back, thrown by his brother's outburst. He had seen the papers sitting on the counter and it didn't occur to him that he should not have read them. He didn't look through any of the forms that Charlie had filled out, only the information sheet with the prep instructions.

"Hey, man, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to get into your personal business. I saw the pamphlet and I needed reading material to go with the coffee."

Charlie sat his own coffee cup down on the table, plopped into one of the chairs and gave his father and brother an apologetic look.

"Sorry, I guess I'm being a little cranky this morning."

"Yeah, a few too many whacks to the head'll do that to you."

Don laughed as Charlie rolled his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure it had more to do with getting up at six. I'm just going to have to get used to these early mornings getting Adam into daycare."

Alan still looked very concerned as he walked over to the table and sat down.

"Charlie, I know you don't like it when I hover, but I'm still concerned..."

"Don't be."

Cutting his father off mid-sentence, Charlie tried to look less exhausted that he felt.

"I'm fine, really. And I'm sure the doctor will concur."

Pulling himself to his feet, Charlie looked from his father to Don.

"Look, there has been so much attention centered on me over the last few weeks that I'm beginning to feel a little…….."

He paused looking for the right word.

"……beleaguered."

Regardless of the seriousness in Charlie's tone, Don couldn't stifle a laugh.

"Charlie, I don't know what that means."

"Beleaguered? It means annoyed, harassed..…surrounded by a host of overprotective people who are afraid to let you so much as stub your big toe!"

He paused to take a deep breath and then turned back to Alan.

"I know you guys care about me, and that means a lot. It really does. But I'm okay."

Charlie ended his speech by taking his coffee cup to the sink and excusing himself to the solarium to plan his syllabus for Applied Mathematics 101.

By the time Megan arrived to pick up Don, Alan had already left for a meeting with Stan. Standing at the window, Charlie watched Don buckle his seatbelt as Megan pulled her personal vehicle, a beige sedan, out of the driveway. The empty drive left Charlie feeling tremendously uneasy, without really understanding why. The dark blue sedan was still parked at the curb, waiting for him to leave. The other car that was usually parked down the street was gone, which mean he had followed Alan………and Megan was with Don.

As he drove toward UCLA's medical center, Charlie couldn't help feeling like he should be at that deposition with Don, even though he knew that wouldn't be allowed. Something about this whole thing felt off………risky somehow. He couldn't really explain it, but for some inexplicable reason the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end every time he though about where his brother was.

All of Charlie's standard neurological exams came back normal. His EEG results were atypical, but Dr. Davidoff had done his research and for once, he didn't have to spend hours trying to convince his patient that abnormal was actually quite normal. On the contrary he was forced to sit through a lengthy tête-à-tête on how well defined Dr. Eppes' alpha brain waves were in comparison to a person of average intelligence. For a few minutes there, Dr. Davidoff felt as though he were being interviewed for a scientific article concerning the heterogeneous differences in alpha brain waves in a cross section of the populace displaying a spectrum of intellectual acuity.

Charlie was so relieved that he'd avoided incurring any permanent brain injury, that he had allowed himself to delve into some of his cognitive emergence work with Dr. Davidoff. In fact, he had almost forgotten his feelings of trepidation about Don's deposition. But as he drove downtown to meet up with his brother, the uneasy sensation came ebbing back when he spotted the dark blue FBI sedan in his rearview mirror.

Stepping up to the front of the municipal building, Charlie found himself waiting for his FBI escort to find a parking space. Quickly ducking through the doors into the lobby, he tried to pretend he hadn't just done that. A security guard, who was seated behind a crescent shaped desk in the center of the lobby, gave him a fleeting glance.

Having never actually been to the USDA's office, Charlie wasn't sure where to look for Don. So, he simply headed toward the row of seats along the wall, which were situated near the elevators. A woman pushing a baby stroller passed by and Charlie wondered if his father had any trouble picking Adam up at daycare. A stiff breeze blew through the lobby as the front doors were opened to allow the woman's exit and a tall man with dark hair, who had held the door for her, walked in. Again, the security guard lifted his head, then quickly returned his attention to the row of camera monitors that were hidden behind his desk.

"Charlie."

The elevator doors had just slid open and Don stepped out, looking exhausted.

"How'd it go?" Charlie asked, suddenly feeling anxious again. Pulling himself to his feet, he met Don in front of the elevator.

"I'll tell if you do." Don draped an arm around his younger brother's shoulders and gave a squeeze. The rare display of public affection between the siblings served two purposes. For Charlie, it seemed to relieve some of the apprehension that had been weighing on him since Don had left the house that morning. It also seemed that Don actually needed someone to lean on after talking about his time in Colombia for the umpteenth time.

As they turned to walk toward the door, two things happened at once.

An attractive blond in a dark blue business suit stepped in front of them, and the dark headed man who had just entered the building tried to get around them.

"Hold the elevator."

The man's request was drowned out by the woman's friendly greeting and the elevator door slid shut behind them.

"Agent Eppes!"

She gave them both a bright smile as she wrestled with a briefcase and a stack of file folders that she was carrying.

"It's so nice to see you!"

Dropping his arm from Charlie's shoulders, Don reached out to steady the stack of folders before they could fall.

"Nadine! I can tell you've been busy."

The man who had missed the elevator pushed past them. Irritated by their lack of courtesy, he turned and eyed the group as they greeted one another. If Megan had remained with Don, she would have recognized the young lawyer as Robert Torres. Since neither Eppes had been present at Valdario's arrest, they had no idea that they were standing less than five feet away from the counsel for the defense.

"Well, I was beginning to think you'd dropped off the face of the earth."

Looking Don up and down, Nadine narrowed her eyes at the changes she observed in his physical appearance.

"I take it you weren't on vacation."

Don put his hands in his pockets, suddenly wary of the fact that he had his sleeves rolled up and the marks on his wrists were still very visible.

Her comment drew Robert's attention and he turned his head away, suddenly afraid of being caught staring. Moving slightly to the side so he could look more closely at the two men through the mirrored surface of the elevator doorframes, he refrained from pushing the button to call the elevator back to the ground floor. The man that she had addressed as Agent Eppes was the right height _and_ he _was _very thin.

"Uh, no. Not even close. I've been working."

The taller of the two men had a deep tan with very closely cropped hair and Robert couldn't help but contemplate the possibility that he was looking at their missing harvester.

"Well, whatever they've got you doing these days doesn't agree with you. So, what are you doing here today?"

Don hesitated and she answered for him as she tossed her hair over her shoulder flirtatiously.

"Working, of course; what else would you be doing?"

It wasn't hard for Don to remember why he had begun dating Nadine Hodges all those years ago. Her alluring smile and incredibly long legs, along with an open invitation for a round of sexually charged repartee was tempting, but he was just too tired.

"I had an appointment; just routine stuff."

"Oh, I very much doubt that."

She shrugged her shoulders in acknowledgement that today wasn't their day to reconnect.

"Nothing that you have ever done has been routine."

Turning her attention to Charlie, she smiled sweetly.

"So, how are things at Cal Sci, Professor Eppes?"

"Positively anomalous."

Charlie flashed an affable smile.

"Thanks for asking."

"Well, I guess I had better get going. I have a new case to look over. Maybe I'll see you around, G-Man." she said, with a wink.

She reached out to offer him a friendly shake, and Don felt that he had to accept, but as he extended his arm, she couldn't help noticing the marks. She turned his hand over to get a closer look at his wrist. An expression of concern passed over her features, but she refrained from commenting on it as she let go of his hand.

"You take it easy, Don. And if you ever……….well, you know how to get my number."

The elevator door opened, and Robert got on. Nadine stepped in after him and he gave her a friendly smile. The image of those rope burns on the wrists of this Agent Eppes were burned into his mind. Marcello has told him what they had done to the harvester who had killed the man they has assumed was a federal agent. It was all he could do to keep from grabbing this woman by the throat and demanding to know everything she knew about Agent Don Eppes. Knowing there were other ways to get information, Robert waited until he got off the elevator. Then, he quickly stepped into the men's room, checking for occupants before opening his cell phone and dialing.

After giving the names and information he had just overheard to his trusted assistant to research, Robert called and canceled the appointment that had brought him to the municipal building in the first place. Returning to the offices of Sabelli, Gamble and Monroe, Robert knew he had just been given the answer to their problems on a silver platter.

Ernesto Sabelli and USDA Meeks were going before the judge in the morning to argue the validity of the warrants, which had led them to the evidence against Valdario. There was little he could do about that, but Robert knew that they could call upon this witness to testify in front of the Grand Jury if the information he furnished was allowed to be called into play. If that witness failed to appear…

A plan of action was already forming in his mind as he booted up his computer and searched for the Los Angeles division of the FBI. After twenty minutes, he found what he was looking for. The SAC of the criminal division of the Los Angeles bureau was listed as 'Special Agent Don Eppes'. Photographs were not included on the biography pages of the Special Agents in Charge, but after spending several hours searching a variety of internet databases, he found the picture he was looking for. The man was younger, and wearing a baseball uniform, but it was definitely the same man from the municipal building.

He printed off the picture and placed it carefully in his briefcase. A moment later, his cell phone chirped loudly.

"Torres. Speak."

He listened carefully for several minutes before responding.

"Are you sure you have the right man? The man I'm looking for is very young; early thirties at the most, that seems a little young for a tenured professor with three PHd's."

Robert began pacing the floor as he listened to the explanation.

"…Applied Mathematics? He started at Princeton at thirteen? I see…"

Suddenly, he stopped pacing. "He consults for the FBI?"

A smiled spread across Robert's face and he walked back to his computer.

"Now that _is_ interesting, the NSA as well?"

As Robert continued to listen to the voice on the other end of the phone, he ran a simple Google search on Doctor Charles Edward Eppes.

"…Of course he is being followed."

Lowering his voice as if someone might overhear him, even in his private office, Robert continued.

"I imagine the entire family is being watched. We will find a way to work around that. Get someone situated at the university. I want all eyes on this professor, there's no way we can touch the agent."

Listening to the suggestions offered by the voice on the other end of the line, Robert shook his head.

"Of course not. Do you have any idea how many witnesses have already just….disappeared? There must be a weakness somewhere that can be exploited and I think the brother is it. I want daily updates on his movements and activities. I want to know what courses he teaches and when, where he goes and why."

The smile that graced Robert Torres' face was cold and calculating. He had work to do. Work, which would cement him as the one that the senior Valdario should trust his empire to. Miguel's eldest son, who had allowed his own father to be trapped by the Federal Government, had no place in Robert's plans for the future of the cartel. Securing Valdario's freedom would secure his own future and Robert knew it. Now, he just had to be able to pull it off and he would soon be running the largest drug cartel in South America, with his beloved Miya at his side.

TBC

A/N: Thank you for your generous comments! Please continue to leave your feedback!


	19. Ambition is the Serious Business of Life

**_A/N – Well, this is a pretty long chapter.…I hope it can tide you over for a while – I have company this week so it may take a bit longer to get the next chapter finished up. Thank you for all of your wonderful comments! _**

_**dHALL**_

**_A/N - Ahh yes the holidays are upon us again. dHALL has family commitments as do I. My nine year old is in our church choir and they are trying desperately to get me to join as well. We have holy week masses all week long, Holy Thursday, Good Friday, The Easter Vigil on Saturday and of course Easter Sunday so my time is a bit crunched as well. We wish all of you a lovely holiday and we seriously appreciate your patience. This story is taking a long time to put together but we are endeavoring to do it and you justice and that takes a wee bit o time. Thanks again for all of your wonderful reviews. We love them!_**

**_Alice I_**

**Chapter Nineteen: Ambition is the Serious Business of Life**

Leaving the municipal building did nothing to alleviate the uneasiness that Charlie had been feeling all day. If fact, the sight of the unmarked sedan, acting as a shadow to his car, only served to increase the flutter in his stomach as he drove home. It seemed odd to him that yesterday he wasn't at all bothered by their presence, but today everything seemed off somehow. It was almost as if the impending danger, which they all had their eyes open for, had chosen to show itself and everyone had missed it.

Pulling up in front of the house, Charlie saw that Alan had arrived just ahead of them. As he steered his car into the drive behind his father's silver sedan, Charlie couldn't help but notice the vehicle that had been tailing them as it slowed down slightly, exchanging silent communication with the beige automobile that was parked a few houses down.

Charlie put the transmission in park and mumbled under his breath, "Those guys are about as subtle as a train wreck."

Don, completely exhausted from his deposition and the brief encounter with his old girlfriend, shook his head as if to wake himself up. "What?"

"Nothing." Removing his key from the ignition, Charlie watched as Don shrugged his shoulders and opened the car door, stepping out onto the driveway.

'_Why can't I shake this feeling that something changed today, something that tipped the scales against us?'_

Charlie mentally chastised himself for allowing his imagination to run away with him. Plastering on a smile, which he hoped looked sincere; he got out of the car.

Heading toward his father, who was about to take the car seat with the baby still strapped into it out of his vehicle, Charlie called out, "I'll get him, Dad. He's getting kind of heavy in that thing."

Alan stood up and eyed his son with a mixture of relief and mock annoyance. "Are you implying that your old man is too feeble to handle a baby?"

Charlie's smile became wider and more genuine as he shook his head.  
"I would never imply any such thing - – old man."

Charlie bent into the vehicle and deftly removed the car seat with the baby, grunting slightly at the weight of the child in the bulky seat. He could hear his father snickering behind him as he walked into the house. The good-natured banter went a long way to calming the uneasy feeling that had plagued him throughout the day concerning his brother's continuing role in the legal battle with the Colombian Drug Cartel. Still, the impression that something had changed remained alive in the back of his mind.

It didn't take the Eppes men long to fall into a pattern over the course of the next week. This made surveillance for the FBI protection detail easier, but it also made observation from a far more malevolent source just as convenient.

Charlie began going to CalSci daily in an attempt to get Adam solidly acclimated to a full time schedule at the Campus Day Care. He spent his days at the office, usually with Amita; preparing lesson plans and getting their classrooms ready for the new semester, which was just around the corner.

Alan found himself very busy working directly with the contractors for the largest, most demanding account that he and Stan had ever landed. On most days, he was usually gone before Charlie left for campus, not returning until evening. Both of his son's seemed to beat him home on a daily basis, which earned him some playful scolding about working to hard.

Even though Don was officially off work for the next month and a half, he quickly fell into a routine of going to the office each day. Since he was required by Bureau policy to see the psychologist bi-weekly for at least a month and his return to field duty was contingent on those visits, he quickly incorporated that into his agenda as well. A member of his team would stop by the house to pick him up before his younger brother left for the day, leaving two of the protection detail agents to follow his brother to work.

Don wanted nothing more than to put the events of the past few months far behind him, but that just wasn't possible yet. The federal judge assigned to the case had ruled their evidence as legally obtained and admissible in court. However, the defense lawyers had convinced the judge that the undercover agent would have to testify at the grand jury hearing. Meeks had argued that Don's testimony would need to take place in closed court and to his credit, the judge agreed. Still, the knowledge that his identity would continue to be protected from the cartel did little to change the fact that Don would, once again, be forced to relay everything that he had been witness to in Colombia.

A few days into their preparation for his testimony, Don and Megan walked into the bullpen to hear David arguing with Howard Meeks. The men were in the conference room with the door closed, but David's angry voice could be heard through the glass.

"It isn't necessary to submit the tape as evidence! There's no call for it, Meeks!"

Howard gestured at the small television screen situated at the end of the long conference table. "It's compelling evidence!"

"It's humiliating and unnecessary! And if you show it to the Grand Jury, then you'll be obligated to show it in open court!"

Don and Megan stepped into the conference room, unbeknownst to the two men who were facing each other with equally stubborn expressions.

"Sinclair, I respect the fact that you're protecting your man, but this tape will show the jury the kind of things that Valdario is responsible for. Don's face will be blurred when I show the tape, and he's already been allowed a close court appearance for his testimony."

Megan looked over to the screen and saw what they were arguing about. "Oh my God."

She turned toward Don, but he already had is eyes fixed on the screen.

Seeing the image of himself, stripped and hanging from his wrists as he was brutally whipped, hit Don like a punch in the gut. Staggering over to the chair at the end of the table, Don lowered himself into it as David made a dive for the remote control.

David looked mortified as he stopped the tape and turned to his boss apologetically. "Don, I...hey. Are you all right, man?"

Megan shot David a glaring look, which she quickly turned to share with the USDA. "Of course he's not alright! What the hell were you two thinking?!"

Howard had the decency to look abashed that Don had walked in while they were viewing the tape. The spotters had turned their cameras on the second Don had reappeared outside of the compound and they had captured the entire humiliating act of barbarism on tape.

Ejecting the video cassette from the player, Howard slipped it onto a hard plastic case. "Don, look, I'm sorry that you saw that. Hell, I'm sorry for what you went through to provide the evidence we needed for this case. But, I can't let your time, your work... your suffering, go unanswered. That video is powerful evidence. When the defense attempts to cut you down and to discredit your testimony, to claim that you weren't even there..."

Both Megan and David turned on Howard in Don's defense, speaking in simultaneously.

"That tape only serves as shock value!"

"That tape should have been destroyed!"

"It will show the Jury exactly what Valdario is capable..."

"My family can not see that, Howard." Don spoke softly, but the conviction in his voice was unyielding and it stopped the developing argument cold.

"This..." he said, waving his hand in the direction of the video monitor, "What happened to me… That is not something I am _ever_ going to let them witness. It's bad enough that my brother knows about it... if my father knew...if he saw this, it would kill him."

Don couldn't help but picture the look in Charlie's eyes when he had seen the angry cuts all over his back...the hatred that was as plain as day on his face when he learned of the injunction that Valdario's lawyer had filed. Don knew he simply could not allow this 'evidence' to be displayed publicly.

He looked up and into Howard Meeks' eyes; to be sure the USDA understood what he was saying. "You have the pictures of my injuries that were taken at Guantanamo. That, along with my testimony, is the same evidence that the video will provide. It may not be as shocking, or as graphic, and if you think it'll help your case, I'll gladly come into court and take my shirt off. But if you show that tape..."

There was an underlying shame that burned in Don's checks as he remembered the demeaning experience of being publicly flogged to serve as an example to the other workers at the compound. However, his own humiliation was secondary to his concern for his father and brother.

"Howard, if my family so much as hears about this tape, I will withdraw my testimony."

At that statement, Howard's eyes flew open wide. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. However, before he could form any reply, Megan stepped forward and intervened.

"Don," Her voice was calm, sounding as if she were trying to talk a jumper down from the 82nd floor. "You know you can't do that. Your testimony is the reason why half of Valdario's flunkies have turned on him. You're the one who gets to nail the coffin shut on that bastard."

She had never heard Don speak in ultimatums, especially when it came to something as serious as this.

Don's eyes never left Meeks' face as he responded. "I'm well aware of that."

"You would do that? You would jeopardize this entire case over that video?" Clutching the case that held the video cassette, Howard shook his head in disbelief. "I don't believe that. I know you, Agent Eppes. You wouldn't do that."

Don's eyes hardened as he continued to stare at Meeks. To David and Megan it looked like the contest of wills between these two men could go on forever, when Howard finally looked down. "I would rather use the video, but if you are this adamant about it, then photographs of your injuries will have to do."

He turned, looking pointedly at David. "However, that tape is still evidence and I want it treated as such."

With a deep sigh, Howard continued in a quieter tone. "Look, Don. I don't know how I can convey how much respect I have for you and what you endured to get the evidence we needed. I have no desire to cause anymore suffering for you, or for your family. It hurt me to watch that video, and I simply wanted the jury to feel that too. Please understand, I was looking at this from a legal, evidence driven point of view. I am sorry. I really am."

With that, Howard left the conference room taking the tape with him. Don turned to stare at the blank television screen, where, in his minds eye, he could still see the outline of his own body hanging on the garden trellis. He had somehow managed not to dwell on it since he'd talked to Charlie in his bedroom on that first night home. He had even relayed the entire horrifying encounter to his shrink that very same morning and it had almost been as liberating as divulging it to his brother. But now, he could almost feel the whip biting into his flesh again and he had to fight off the scream that had initially accompanied each strike. He barely took notice of Megan and David when they stepped from the room, leaving him alone to regain his composure.

* * *

The law partners of Sabelli, Gamble and Monroe had made the Valdario defense their primary case. Robert Torres, however, had his goal set much higher than legally achieving the freedom of their client.

He had emailed the photograph of the man he had seen in the municipal building to Marcello. His soon to be brother-in-law was convinced that the picture was of the missing harvester. In an attempt to explain his incompetence, Marcello had ranted about the cunning abilities of this American operative, whom he had failed to detect. The young man they had assumed was the undercover federal agent was obviously a decoy, murdered by this man when _his_ cover was in danger. Valdario had intended to personally deal with the alleged spy and when the young man had been found dead, the kingpin had ordered the lashing of the suspected vigilante; which had allowed him, the true operative, to escape.

If this Agent Eppes was even half as clever as Marcello avowed him to be, Robert knew that getting to him or his family would not be an easy task. Even if the agent himself was merely adequate in his training, the FBI presence at the family's house in Pasadena was strong, making observation of their daily routines at home nearly impossible.

He wasn't about to try anything near the FBI office, where Agent Eppes seemed to be spending most of his days. Calling in a few favors did allow Robert to get a man placed on the ground crew at CalSci, which was getting him information on the younger brother. He would have preferred to be able to get an opportunity to take out the witness for the prosecution, but to eliminate the man responsible for the pending downfall of the Valdario cartel would have to be done discreetly and security around him was _very_ thorough.

The Grand Jury hearing was still nearly four weeks away and Robert knew that he couldn't rush this. An opportunity to get to the informant might still present itself. Family seemed to be the prime motivator for the actions of Agent Eppes. He obviously relied heavily on the strength of his family, or he would have gone straight into protective custody, as all of the other witnesses seemed to have done.

The prosecution had quite a list of traitors who had proven that they were willing to sell out their loyalty just to get a reduced sentence. Every one of them had vanished from the cartel's radar, but they would be dealt with in time. By finding a way to prevent or manipulate the testimony of the government's prime witness, the traitors would see the futility in their willingness to cooperate.

The conundrum was this; to get to Agent Eppes directly would surely mean the loss of at least one man and that would bring an undue amount of attention to their effort to prevent his testimony. An assassin would surely be killed, possibly before completing his objective and again, it would be obvious who was responsible.

No, his best chance at this point was to target the younger brother. The security surrounding him was tight, but his actions were more sporadic than those of the agent. He instructed his man at the University to start getting photographs of the mathematician and everyone he worked, or socialized, with. He wanted as much information as possible about the FBI agents who were assigned to watch the young professor. Who was the most diligent in their duties...who was the most lax...and when, if ever, was Charlie Eppes out of sight of the protection detail?

Agent Eppes' greatest source of strength was also his primary weakness. From what he had found out thus far, Robert suspected that there was very little a man like Don Eppes would not do for his brother. And if the opportunity presented itself, he was going to make him prove it.

* * *

With the fall semester starting the next day, Charlie had been so busy preparing for his classes that his uneasiness had diminished to an almost forgotten itch. That changed in an instant.

He was taking Amita out for dinner that night at one of their favorite patio restaurants. Usually Adam accompanied them, and they kept dinner much more casual. But tonight, Charlie had asked Alan to pick the baby up for him.

They had just been seated at their usual table, near the edge of the courtyard, when the two agents in his protective surveillance detail seated themselves a few tables away. The maître d' approached, presumably to ask them to leave, but a few whispered words and a flashed badge later, the agents both had a cup of coffee and a prime seat to watch Charlie eat dinner with his girlfriend.

The patio was adjacent to the street, and each passing car or wondering pedestrian had the full attention of the two vigilant agents. Luckily, Amita had been seated with her back to the door and remained unaware of their presence. Although Charlie was able to feign giving Amita his undivided attention, he was unable to think of anything else for the remainder of the evening.

It wasn't so much that the two agents had intruded on a private moment...most of the time they were really quite considerate, remaining outside in their car when he was out in public and following him around campus at a distance. They had even donned more casual attire, in order to blend in with the campus crowds, but he could always spot them in the darkness of the back of lecture halls or out in the quad. However, their suddenly close proximity served as a hefty reminder of the immense inquietude he'd been trying to dismiss since the day of Don's deposition.

Turning down an invitation to come in and stay a while, Charlie dropped a very metagrobolized Amita off at her front door. The dark blue sedan tailed him home, as it had consistently done every day since Don had returned. Although they had never had any trouble keeping up with his lead foot, Charlie was careful to maintain the speed limit, almost afraid that he might lose them in traffic.

When Colby had initially explained why his family needed to be under protective surveillance, Charlie had accepted it. He'd been able to keep all of his worries and uncertainties in check, making sure that Don knew he was not afraid. But now, quite suddenly, he was.

After checking on Adam, who was asleep in his crib, Charlie found Don resting on the couch, watching an old movie. He had expected the safety of home, and the proximity to Don, to squelch the growing feeling of apprehension. When it did not, he swallowed his pride and decided that it was time to say something to his brother.

Sinking down on the couch next to Don, Charlie leaned his head back on the cushions and sighed. "Have you ever had an irrational feeling that didn't have any basis in logic or fact, but it just wouldn't quit?"

Don turned his head and looked at his brother with a slight frown on his face. "Yeah, Charlie. It's called a hunch."

Rolling his eyes at his brother's wry tone, Charlie went on. "Well, before now I would have told you that I don't believe in hunches, but..."

Don sat forward and turned the volume on the TV down, giving Charlie his full attention. "What's this about, Charlie?"

"That's the problem, I don't know." Turning sideways on the couch, Charlie turned toward his older brother. "Ever since your deposition I have had this feeling that I just can't shake. Something is just not right."

Don's frown deepened. "How so?"

"I can't explain it logically... There are no tangible grounds for me to feel this way, but it's as if something went wrong somewhere. Like the status quo has changed somehow."

"Charlie..."

Before Don could start on his attempt to dispel his fears, Charlie interrupted him. "This case is solid, isn't it?"

"Rock solid, Charlie." Sitting back again, Don put his feet up on the coffee table. "I'm not the only witness the federal government has, you know. There are several..."

"But _you _are the reason _they _have to testify, aren't you?"

Still leaning back into the cushions, Don rolled his head toward his brother. "Yes. The information I collected at the compound is the reason why the FBI was able to round up those members of the cartel while they were operating in the US. But, Charlie, the case is solid. There's no way they can eliminate every single witnesses without further incriminating themselves."

"Bauchtang Wizenfeld."

The words were mumbled under his breath, but Don heard him anyway.

"What?"

With a sigh, Charlie leaned back on the couch next to his brother, fixing his eyes on the TV screen while he spoke. "Self organized criticality, Don. This whole thing is an inundation of events, people and procedures that has become a self-sustaining entity with massive potential for collapse."

Don nodded slowly, knitting his eyebrows together. "The sand pile thing?"

Charlie's eyes widened, embellishing surprise and Don looked slightly affronted by his reaction. "Hey! I do listen when you talk."

Charlie had to resist the urge to smile. After the shooting at the FBI office last year, he had given Don and his team an analogy using the Bauchtang Wizenfeld Sand Pile to explain how one small disturbance could bring down an entire structure as it was related to a criminal trial. He couldn't help but be a little pleased that Don remembered, but he kept his face serious.

"Well, good. So you should know that if I had more information about this trial, I could apply values to every constituent………"

Don gave him a sympathetic look as he cut him off mid-sentence.

"Charlie…."

"You're that grain of sand, Don. _You _are the only witness they need to get rid of in order to make all of this go away."

The stricken look on Charlie's face spoke for him, and Don put his feet back on the floor and turned so that they were face to face. "Did something happen, Charlie?"

"No…" There was a note of hesitancy in his denial, so Charlie repeated it.

"No. Nothing happened, not really. I'm just…..worried."

Taking a deep breath, Don held it for a moment, and then exhaled loudly.

"Yeah…I know." Forcing a strained smile, he continued. "Charlie, I'd like to tell you there's nothing to worry about…but you made a pretty convincing case just now with that sand pile thing."

Charlie didn't return the smile and Don ran his hand through his hair as he tried to find the right words to say to his brother. "The Grand Jury hearing is coming up fast. The evidence that was collected using the information I provided was ruled admissible. Valdario is screwed and both he and his lawyers know it."

"And doesn't that give them a reason to be even more desperate?"

Don wanted to be frustrated with his brother's concerns, but he could see a vulnerability in Charlie's eyes that hadn't been there the last time they had talked about Valdario.

"Yes. But, Charlie, nothing has changed for us. Even during the trial, any testimony from me will take place in closed court. Megan even talked me into wearing a vest for the trial, and….."

Charlie narrowed his eyes, interrupting his brother. "A vest?"

"It's a _precaution_, Charlie. Just like those guys that are following us all around."

Charlie was going to say something else, but stopped when Don quickly turned to look into the dining room. Alan had just stepped out of the kitchen holding a small tray with two plates of cheesecake and two cups of coffee.

Charlie gave Don one last look of concern before he turned to his father, smiling as if they had been discussing the weather. "Cheesecake? I'm still stuffed from dinner, Dad."

"This isn't for you, my boy; it's for the agents outside."

Don stood up like a shot and Charlie's mouth fell open. Alan looked at his boys with raised eyebrows. "Just how old and unobservant do you two think I am?"

When neither son answered, he continued. "Those men have been watching this family for at least two weeks. I've seen them following me to meetings. I've seen them follow you boys whenever you leave and come back… always the same car. I know they're keeping an eye on you until that drug lord can be brought to trial. I'm assuming that they're keeping an eye on the rest of us as a precaution."

Even though it had not been stated as a question, Don nodded and smiled ruefully at his father. "You have known all this time and didn't say anything?"

"I didn't say I liked it. But, yes, I was aware of their presence." With that, Alan stepped over to the door.

"Dad, wait."

He stopped at Don's voice.

"You can't just walk up to agents who are on surveillance duty."

Turning, Alan gave him a challenging look and Don sighed. "Fine. But, let me call them. One of them can come around back and get the tray."

* * *

The early morning sun filtered through the tempered glass of the French doors, which led out to the patio that was adjacent to the master bedroom suite. Robert woke to the call of the seagulls and the powerful rush of the surf hitting the Palos Verdes beach as the tide came in. Opening his eyes, he rolled over in bed and stroked his bride-to-be's thick, black hair, reveling in the smell of her. He had always found her to be stunningly beautiful, especially when her eyes flashed with the fire of her passion. But even that beauty did not compare to the soft and gentle lines of her angelic face when she slept.

As much as he wished to spend the next few hours wrapped closely around his Spanish rose, he had work to do. Reluctantly, he slipped out of bed, remaining silent as not to disturb her from her slumber. After a quick shower and shave, Robert was ready to start his day. His first order of business was a meeting at the firm's office with Ernesto Sabelli to discuss their strategy.

Robert leaned over and kissed Miya lightly on the cheek before slipping silently down the stairs to the kitchen. The last thing he expected at that early hour was to hear the doorbell ring. But what really floored him was the sight of the dark skinned man standing on the veranda when he opened the front door.

"Marcello! What in the hell are you doing here? I told you not to come!"

Robert peered past his fiancé's brother, down the private drive, as though he expected to see someone watching.

"It's good to see you too, Torres."

Looking past him, though the open door and into the house, Marcello took a step forward. "Qué más? Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Stepping aside to allow him entry, Robert slammed the door shut behind them. "You are a complete and utter fool. You know that, right?"

"Now that's no way to talk to the man who will soon be your brother-in-law. What would my father say?"

Ignoring the idle threat, Robert turned his back on his guest and moved toward the kitchen. "You could have been followed, I know they've got you, and God knows how many others, on a homeland security watch list."

Reaching for an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter, Marcello took a large bite and began to chew as he spoke.

"I wasn't followed, huevón. You know me better than that."

"This place is under my mother's maiden name."

Parting the curtains that covered the kitchen windows, Robert looked out toward the loggia that ran along the side of the pool house, looking for any sign of intrusion around the covered walkway.

"It's totally off the radar. The feds have never been out here. They don't even know about it."

"Good. Then I have a place to stay."

Whipping around to face Valdario's eldest son, Robert's eyes flashed with anger. "You pompous asshole."

Marcello widened his eyes in defiance, but remained silent as Robert continued.

"You could be arrested just for setting foot on American soil! The evidence that the federal government has implicates you, as well as your father. You come here...to this house, and put your sister and our future in danger! We can be arrested for harboring a fugitive, you imbecile!"

The counter was between them, or Robert might have taken a step back when Marcello clenched his fists.

"I would never put Miya in any danger."

"Marcello!"

Miya's voice rang out from the top of the stairs and both men dropped their offensive stance to turn and greet her.

She gave Robert a hopeful look as she enveloped her older brother in a tight hug. With a deep sigh, Robert turned his back to them both and began to prepare a pot of coffee. Robert was an only child and the devotion of a sibling was something he had never known on a personal level. But Marcello was Miya's big brother and Robert was confident that she would continue to worship him even if he led the FBI into their home and offered them breakfast.

Marcello stepped back, holding on to Miya's arms. He was at least a full foot taller than she was, and he had to lean over to kiss her on the forehead.

"Muchacha bonita! My baby sister! You are as radiant as ever."

Miya adopted a stern expression as she looked up at her brother.

"Oh, Marcello, why did you come? They will arrest you and then what will happen? To lose you and have my entire family prisoners of the federales...this is something I could not bear."

Robert was affronted that Miya had not included him as a member of her family. They were not yet wed in the eyes of the law, but in his eyes, the bed they shared made her his wife. However, the traditions of the family dated back hundreds of years and he had always respected Senior Valdario's steadfast adherence to those traditional values. He was not a member of the Valdario clan and would not be until they were wed in the eyes of God and man.

Turning to his betrothed, he smiled sweetly. "Miya, my darling. Why don't you go get dressed while I talk to Marcello?"

Giving her brother a quick kiss on the cheek, Miya inclined her head toward her fiancé and obediently headed back up the stairs.

As soon as she was out of sight, Robert turned to glare angrily at his would-be brother-in-law. Knowing full well that Miya would be lingering at the top of the stairs, he spoke in a hissed whisper.

"I'm going to see Ernesto."

Marcello opened his mouth to assert that he would like to come along, but Robert did not give him the chance.

"You _will not _leave this house. Ernesto needs to know you are here. _He _will decide what to do with you."

Ernesto Sabelli had represented the legal interests of the Valdario family since before Marcello, Miya and Juan Valdario where born. They had grown up calling him Uncle and his word was as much family law as their father's. Ernesto had done all he could to keep Juan out of prison, but since the youngest Valdario would not betray his family, he would likely spend the remainder of his life there. Although Robert believed Marcello to be a parasite, he did not wish to see Miya loose both of her brothers to the same fate. He knew, for the sake of the family he was about to become a part of; he must try to prevent that from happening.

"For the sake of your sister, whom I love more than life, I cannot allow you to be seen here. Not only have you endangered Miya, you have put your father's freedom at risk. Do not make the mistake of disregarding this instruction, Marcello. Do not leave this house. I have everything under control."

Robert turned away from him and followed Miya's path up the stairs. Marcello was tempted to pursue him, but he managed to contain his temper. The man made his baby sister happy, but he was not family and Marcello had tolerated about all he could.

As the eldest of the Valdario children, Marcello knew he was the rightful heir to his father's legacy. But he could see that Robert was an ambitious man and would insinuate himself any way that he could into his father's graces. One of the main reasons he had come to the United States was to make his presence known and felt. If he had remained safely down in Cali, Robert could, and likely would, be plotting to take the inheritance that rightfully belonged to him.

Moments later, Robert descended the stairs. Having given Miya his farewells, he left without another word. Marcello knew Ernesto Sabelli would not be pleased that he was in the United States. His presence could potentially complicate matters for the defense if the FBI apprehended him. Marcello also knew that Ernesto would agree with Robert's instructions for him to stay out of sight and so he resolved himself to stay at the villa as he had been told.

When Miya returned to the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast, Marcello took a seat at the counter to listen to her prattle on about the private beach and the sunset view. Listening to his sister talk, Marcello grew more and more resentful of Robert's authority over him. Sitting at home, drinking coffee and chatting like a woman, was not what Marcello had come here to do. The Federales had all kinds of evidence against his father because he allowed this American agent to live. Robert was going to exploit his error in judgment, and if he played his cards right, it might not take much to convince Miguel Valdario that his eldest son could not handle the family business.

Marcello knew he was going to have to prove to his father that he could, and would, do what was necessary to handle things for this family. He had contacts here in Los Angeles…. Men he could count on to get him the supplies he would need.

Sure, he would agree to stay out of sight, but that wasn't going to stop him from contacting the one person he could trust to do this job. He would need to make a call to Cali and arrange for Ramon to come to LA. Then all he would have to do is sit back and wait. If there was no evidence, then there would be no trail.

* * *

Four days before the Grand Jury hearing, Howard Meeks found himself growing increasingly paranoid...and for good reason. No case against _any_ member of the Valdario Cartel had ever gotten this far. Witnesses had a bad habit of turning up dead in a culvert somewhere on the west side. Or, they would simply vanish and never be heard from again. Extra measures were now being taken to assure that this did not happen to his witnesses, but Howard still couldn't find the peace of mind he needed to concentrate on the preparation of his opening statement.

The men from the TEMS bust were safely tucked away from the rest of the prison population in a secure federal holding facility, their families' safe and in protective custody. The security on the Eppes family had also been tightened to the maximum warranted amount. However, it had been determined that the Eppes family did not require protective custody since Don's identity was not known, and would continue to be protected during the trial. He had tried to talk Don into staying at a safe-house until the trial was over, but with the infinitesimal amount of resources directed toward the safety of his family, Don would not leave them.

He had spent the last four weeks training hard to get back into top physical condition. He had passed every physical endurance, reflexive acuity and psychological exam that the Bureau had put him through to determine that he was fully ready to return to active field duty. Given this, Don firmly believed that he was the last and best line of defense for his family and he wanted to be near them when they were at their most vulnerable. Sitting at his desk and looking over the information and evidence that Don had provided, Howard couldn't help but feel that they owed the Eppes' more than just a few men on surveillance duty.

Howard Meeks pulled himself to his feet and began to pace his office. Four days away, and he hadn't even finalized his opening statement for the grand jury. Pre-trial jitters were something he had not experienced since he was a new graduate from law school. He'd passed his bar exams on the first attempt. A star student; he had always been considered a potentially brilliant trial lawyer by his peers and professors. Still, that didn't stop him from nearly fainting the first time he had to prosecute a case in front of a Federal Judge. That was nearly fifteen years ago and that sort of nervous anticipation was not something he was accustomed to experiencing any more. But this case was different.

This case would define him for the rest of his career as a federally employed attorney. Hell, this case would define him for the rest of his life. This was, by far, the highest profile case that LA County had seen in the last half a century. It even topped the O.J. Simpson case, and that was a circus.

His secretary buzzed in on the intercom, interrupting his self-deprecating thoughts.

"Mister Meeks, your two-thirty called. He's going to be a few minutes late."

"My two-thirty? You mean Sinclair?"

"No, Sir. Robert Torres from Sabelli, Gamble and Monroe?"

"Right...Okay."

Looking at the clock on the wall, Howard cursed silently to himself. He had forgotten about the appointment with the member of Valdario's defense team. The final witness roster was being released, minus the real name of the undercover federal agent, and Sabelli wanted it put directly into the hands of the defense.

Howard was also waiting for David Sinclair to arrive. The Federal Agent was supposed to be escorting him to the holding facility where they were keeping the witnesses. He needed to go over their testimonies again and make sure that everything was in order.

"Margaret?"

His secretary's voice came back across the line.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Ask Special Agent Sinclair to wait in the main lobby until Mister Torres and I are finished."

"Yes, Sir."

Glancing at his watch, Howard decided he had time for a quick trip to the men's room since Robert Torres would be late. Stepping out his office door, he found Margaret sitting behind an arrangement of assorted flowers in an exquisite looking clay pot.

"Mister Meeks, you are a very kind man."

Rushing past her desk, Howard glanced back over his shoulder wondering if she was going to ask him for another vacation. He wasn't sure if he could handle a temp for a full week during a trial like this one.

"I'll be right back, okay? Then we'll discuss how kind I actually am."

She smiled at him over the tops of the flowers and Howard rushed out into the hallway. The office next to his belonged to Robin Brooks, and he could see that someone had also sent her assistant a large arrangement of flowers that matched the one that Margaret had received. Wondering if it was Administrative Professionals Day, Howard made a mental note to check his calendar as he stepped into the men's room.

David stood at the curb across from the Federal Administration Building waiting for the light to change. If he were willing to take the risk, he could have crossed without the light. But, he wasn't in that big of a hurry to see Howard Meeks again. He couldn't help but harbor some resentment over Meeks' insistence that they use the video of Don's flogging in court. He had made a promise not to use it when Don had threatened to recant his testimony, but David had some doubts. Howard Meeks was a politically minded man with fierce determination, and a passion for justice. He was going to win this case even if it killed him. Of that, David was certain.

As he stood there, a man in a white delivery uniform, his white cap pulled low over his eyes, exited the building. David watched as he took off, crossing the street in a daring jaywalk through the afternoon traffic. The driver of a small sedan honked his horn and the man turned and extended his middle finder toward the angry driver before he climbed into the white delivery van parked on the other side of the street. The light turned and David moved quickly through the crosswalk.

The sound of tires squealing turned his attention back to the van as the driver put the pedal to the floor, burning the rubber off his tires as he pulled away from the curb. He ignored the red light, speeding through the intersection that David had just crossed, and headed down the street.

Taking note of the insignia for a downtown florist that adorned the side of the van, David was half-tempted to call the flower shop and complain about the man's driving. He watched the van disappear into traffic, and then turned back toward the building to head up to Howard Meeks' office.

Just as David reached the first step, a deafening concussion rocked the building in front of him and the ground beneath his feet lurched powerfully. An unseen force slammed into him and David flew backward, landing hard on his back. Even with the breath knocked out of him, he reacted instinctively, rolling onto his side and curling his arms up to protect his head as glass and mortar showered the sidewalk.

The first sound David became aware of was a car alarm going off somewhere close to his head. Disoriented and confused, David uncurled his body and pushed himself up onto his knees. There was someone screaming nearby and alarm bells were ringing in several of the surrounding buildings. The ringing in his ears seemed to be muting all of the other sounds as he rose stiffly to his feet. A wave of dizziness washed over him and David staggered backward into a grey BMW that had been parked at the curb. All of the windows were shattered from the repercussion of the blast and David turned to look at the other debris that was scattered around him. The twisted remains of a desk chair caught his eye and he hoped that no one had been sitting in it when the blast went off. He could feel something warm running down the side of his face and David lifted his hand to wipe the slippery substance away. His hand came away covered in blood but he took little notice of it as he lifted his eyes to the remains of the Federal Administration building. A large part of the fourth and fifth floor looked as if it had been ripped from the building. Paper was raining down on him from the office space above, as David grappled with shaking hands trying to pull his cell phone from his belt.

"Sir? Sir?"

Someone grabbed his arms.

"Sir, you need to sit down. Help is on the way."

David pulled away, and yanked his jacket open to reveal his badge and gun.

"I'm a federal agent."

The young man who was trying to assist him had come from up the street, but he looked just as shell shocked as David did and for a single second they stared at each other in silence. Somewhere close by, a siren cut through the air and David pointed toward a young woman who had just staggered out of the lobby.

"Help her. Try to get people across the street."

The young man quickly obeyed the voice of authority and moved over to the woman, taking her by the arm and leading her across the now empty street.

David's head was spinning as he finally managed to pull his cell phone off his belt and hit the first number on the speed dial.

_**TBC**_


	20. The Affairs of This Life

**Chapter Twenty: The Affairs of this Life are Not of our Own Ordering **

When Colby turned their SUV onto the road, which led in front of the building that had housed the USDA's office, he heard Megan gasp loudly. They had seen the billowing smoke from blocks away, and the sound of sirens, including their own, filled the air as assorted emergency vehicles rushed to the scene. However, neither of them had truly been prepared for the sight that met their eyes. Colby honked the horn, prompting a small group of arriving bystanders to move a little faster to get out of the way.

Pulling the SUV up onto the sidewalk so it wouldn't hinder emergency services, Colby looked at the devastation that lay before them. "Where is he? Do you see him?"

Megan opened her door and scanned the scene for the familiar dome of their friend and partner. Shock covered the area like a tangible blanket. Even amid the wails of pain and the barking commands of the first emergency responders, an eerie silence pervaded. Firefighters dressed in full turnout gear were running into the building, while the wind whipped the smoke and debris around the heads of the walking wounded where they milled around in the street, waiting for someone to tell them what to do or where to go. A few civilians, who were uninjured, were working diligently to escort the wounded to safety amid the rubble that covered the sidewalks. Several police cars pulled up behind their SUV, immediately moving to block curious onlookers from wondering onto the already crowded scene. Near the west side of the building, the first ambulance on site had parked catawampus across the sidewalk and there, on its back bumper, was David.

"There."

Megan jumped down from the SUV, slamming the door as she took off across the sidewalk with Colby right behind her.

When her phone rang just after two-thirty, Megan had known instantly that something had gone terribly wrong. She was shocked to hear the quaver in David's voice as he tried to tell her what had just happened. He was able to clearly articulate that a bomb had exploded at the municipal building, but he was either unable or unwilling to answer her questions regarding the severity of his own injuries. It was highly probable that the USDA's office was the target of this attack. The Valdario case was not the only thing going in United States District Court, but it did have the spotlight….and its defendant was well known for his retaliatory tactics. With this in mind, she had immediately ordered an increase in the protection surrounding the Eppes family and asked that a security team be sent over to escort Don home.

He had been cleared for duty, but Merrick hadn't signed off on his return to the field and the sight of a terrorist attack was not the time or place for him to return to his SAC responsibilities. He was the most important material witness in an ongoing federal investigation, which was about to go to trial, and Don had no business leading an investigation right now…especially this one.

According to David, the front half of the fourth and fifth floors of the municipal building were all but gone. There was a good chance that Howard Meeks was dead, and all of the evidence that his office had in their care had likely been destroyed. Don had grudgingly agreed to go home, and after eliciting a promise from her to keep him informed, left the building under watchful eye of two well-trained agents.

A helicopter belonging to a local news affiliate swooped low over the scene, bringing Megan back to the present. David and the EMT attending to him lifted their heads, looking up at the chopper. The blood that was caked to the side of David's face put a little extra speed in her step as she turned to Colby.

"I think we should call and get a no-fly issued. We also need to get a status report on the USDA and his staff."

Her fellow agent responded by pulling his cell phone from his pocket and pointing toward David, indicating that she should check on him. David smiled up mirthlessly at them as they approached. Colby, already on the phone with dispatch, raised his eyebrows at his colleague, while Megan asked the question verbally.

"Hey, are you all right?"

He responded by gingerly shrugging his shoulders and lifting his eyes past her, to the tragedy that had unfolded. Fire Rescue teams had begun to carry victims out of the building, some of which were beyond help. They were placing the dead behind the ambulance so they were not visible to everyone who passed by. The EMT at David's side finished adhering adhesive strips to the gash on his head and taped a large gauze bandage over them before he stood and turned to walk away. Megan grabbed his arm. "Hey. How is he?"

"He should go in and get checked out by a doctor. He may need stitches, but the bleeding has stopped. I think he'll be all right." The EMT quickly moved off toward the hub of activity at the front of the building.

"I'm fine."

David's voice was steadier than it had been on the phone.

"I'll get checked later, the hospitals are going to be busy for a while."

"David…."

He stared up at her, his eyes shining with helpless anger, his jaw set in fierce determination.

"I think I may have seen him."

"Who? The bomber?"

David nodded slowly and reached up to touch the gauze that the EMT had taped to his head. "A guy in a white delivery truck, Happy's Florist, downtown. He was sure in a helluva hurry - ran a red light. Bomb went off a few seconds later."

Colby had just closed his phone, and he immediately flipped it open again.

"I'll send somebody over there."

David was looking past them toward the building as two firemen stepped out of the lobby, carrying a woman's body between them. David groaned and Megan saw his face contorted in a grimace.

"David, are you sure you're okay?"

"Ah, shit."

Colby's exclamation spun her around to see what had incited this kind of reaction in the usually stanch agents. The firemen were laying the body down gently on the sidewalk, near the other dead who had been recovered from inside the building. Megan suddenly felt the blood drain from her own face as she stared at the lifeless features of the woman. It was Robin Brooks.

"Oh my, God."

Turning away from the body of the woman who, not long ago, had been a very important part of Don's life, Megan shuttered. Even though Robin and Don had stopped seeing each other several months before he left for Colombia, Megan was certain that her death would hit him hard and she could tell from the expressions on David and Colby's faces that they knew it too. Megan sighed and turned away from the carnage.

"I'll call Don later. He doesn't need to hear it on the news."

Megan's voice initiated instant recovery from the shock of seeing Robin dead and the two men followed her example and turned away from the body. David extended his hand for assistance and Colby obliged. "I'll go find out who's in charge and get a casualty list started."

Megan turned toward the injured agent and shook her head adamantly.

"Listen, Sinclair, what you're going to do is sit back down until we can get you to a hospital. We can handle this."

Colby nodded in agreement, and turned to scan the throng of emergency personal that had arrived on scene. "I'm gonna check with the EMS teams and see if I can find Meeks."

Megan's eyes floated over the chaos of people trying to get out of the building and the newly arriving emergency personnel trying to get in.

"No need, he's there." she said, pointing.

Howard Meeks was being led through the shattered lobby doors, supported by a burly looking rescuer on his left side. An incoming firefighter bumped into them and Howard staggered and nearly fell. His face was bloodied and from the way he was holding his left arm, it was easy to assume that it was broken. He looked shell-shocked, nevertheless, he was walking rather than being carried and that was a good sign.

Colby took off in a trot, followed by Megan and then David, who was moving much slower. Howard was quickly deposited in a makeshift triage area that was being set up by EMS.

"Meeks!" Megan spoke his name but he didn't seem to hear. He was looking around dazed, but when he turned in her direction, he seemed to recognize her and his eyes cleared a little.

Looking into the concerned face of Agent Reeves, Howard realized that she was speaking to him but he couldn't really hear her voice. His ears were still ringing from the blast. The tiled walls of the men's room had served to amplify the sound from the explosion and he found that he was still deafened by it. He could hear, but everything seemed dim and muted. David walked up, still unsteady on his feet, and Howard turned toward him.

When he spoke, he didn't realize that he was shouting, because he could barely hear his own voice.

"Sinclair!" He looked the agent over, eyeing the bandage on his head and the blood that had run down his neck, staining his shirt collar. Still shouting, and drawing some eyes in his direction, he asked, "Were you up there?"

"No, still on the sidewalk."

David tilted his head toward the rubble that covered the sidewalk and Howard looked up at the front of the building and gasped. "Oh God." Lifting his eyes to Megan, his voice was shaking when he asked, "What about my staff?"

Megan couldn't help but glance over her shoulder at the increasing pile of bodies, which were partially hidden by the ambulance. Colby spotted the Fire Chief standing next to a nearby rescue vehicle and he took off in that direction. Turning back to Howard, Megan knelt down at his side and looked directly at him to assure that he could clearly understand what she was saying though his ringing ears.

"Howard, Robin is dead. We don't know about everyone else yet. Colby's going to find out."

He was silent for several minutes before he looked up at her, shock and pain reflecting in his eyes.

"Was I the target?"

Megan hesitated to answer, but then Colby caught her eye from where he stood across the street. The uniformed officer he was talking to was gesturing toward the building and Colby met Megan's eyes and nodded.

"I think it's starting to look that way, Howard."

_**----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

Standing in front of his blackboard, Charlie turned around to face his class. "The isoperimetric function is strictly exponential!" They all stared at him, looking confused and Charlie sighed, returning his chalk to its tray.

"This is Applied Mathematics Four-Point-O. If you think that perhaps you've wondered into this classroom in error, now would be an appropriate time to tell me."

Several students laughed and Charlie smiled.

"Seriously, I know it's been a few months and we've all had a lot going on this summer."

A cell phone rang in the back of the room and most of the students turned to look at the two men, seated at the back of the class, who had followed Charlie into the room. Then they looked back at their professor, as if in hope that he would elaborate on the reason behind their presence there. Not wishing to draw more attention to the two men than they attracted to themselves, Charlie kept talking over the voice of the agent who answered his phone. "Now come on, let's get focused. Can anyone tell me how to complete this proof?"

When no one responded, Charlie shook his head and sat down at his desk.

"Let's start at the beginning, then. We must first demonstrate an exponential lower bound on the length of any path in the Cayley graph of 'C' that joins 'y' to 'z' and is labeled entirely by generations of 'B'."

One of the students on the front row snickered.

"Oh yeah, Doctor Eppes, that's much clearer now."

The whole class erupted into laughter. Charlie grinned and was about to reply, when the door to the lecture hall swung open and Larry Flienhardt rushed in. The two men who were sitting in the very back row of chairs lurched to their feet, once again drawing the attention of the entire class. The obviously over-exaggerated reaction of the two agents to someone entering his classroom, and the ashen color and disturbed expression on his friend and mentor's face, quickly wiped away his smile and Charlie turned back to his class.

"Let's quit for the day. Go……"

Larry was talking to the two agents in the back of the room, and suddenly Charlie knew that something truly terrible had happened.

"Go construct polynomials or something."

Charlie didn't even wait for his class to register that they had been dismissed early during their first week of classes. He grabbed his bag and trotted down the isle to the back of the lecture hall.

"Larry, what's happened? Are you all right?"

He didn't wait for Larry to answer before he turned to the agent; who, up to this point, he had never spoken to.

"Is Don okay? Did something happen to my brother?"

"Doctor Eppes, let's get you to a more secure ……"

Before the agent could finish, Larry cut in, no longer able to contain the news that had prompted him to interrupt his friend's lecture.

"I just saw the news; there was an explosion at the municipal building downtown. Megan was down there. I saw her on the news, Charles. She was there."

One of the agents silently opened the door and stepped into the hall and Charlie inertly followed, as his mind tried to absorb what Larry had just told him.

"Oh God, is she all right?"

The two agents flanked either side of Charlie as they walked, something they had never done before, and Larry physically pushed his way up next this friend. "She looked fine, Charles. Colby was with her and I think David was as well….but it might not have been him, it's hard to tell with all that blood."

Charlie paled at that and stopped in the hallway. "David was hurt?"

Larry furrowed his brow in concern. "It did appear that way. He was talking to someone sitting on the sidewalk. He didn't look so good."

"Don!"

The agent on his right grabbed his elbow, prompting him to continue walking.

"Your brother is fine, Doctor Eppes. A security team has escorted him home. We have no reason to believe that there is an immediate threat to you or your family, but we're going to stay put until another unit gets here."

One of the agents opened the door to Charlie's office, ushering them inside. Heading straight for his desk, Charlie grabbed the phone and dialed a number he had known by heart since he was two years old.

_**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

Sitting at the bar at Breakers Beachside Tavern, Marcello allowed a smug smile to cover his face. The bartender had just turned up the volume on the flat screen plasma television that hung on the wall, and Marcello watched the live news broadcast, reveling in his handiwork. It stood to reason that the government lawyer would be holding evidence in his office as he prepared his presentation to the grand jury. With Ramon's expertise, Marcello knew it would be a cinch to plant enough C-4 to bring down the entire building, but that would have been overkill. He could see from the close-up shot of the devastation to the front of the building that Ramon had done the job perfectly, even though they had upped their timetable.

A few days ago, through an extraordinary stroke of luck, Marcello had seen Robert's open appointment book lying on the countertop. His 2:30 meeting with the USDA had been written in with red pen and circled repeatedly, emphasizing its importance. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up and Marcello had immediately arranged to push things up by twenty-four hours. Ramon had been forced to improvise on their method of planting the bombs, but the extra risk was worth it to know that Robert Torres was somewhere in that rubble.

When his cell phone rang and he saw that it was Miya, Marcello let his smile slip from his face. He had convinced his sister to take a spa day, keeping her as far away from downtown Los Angeles as possible, and giving her a rock solid alibi that would match his own. His alibi was only for the sake of the family since he was already a wanted man, but the FBI would most certainly question Miya about the bombing. If he hadn't just been blown to smithereens, Robert would not be able to say that Marcello had not considered the safety and wellbeing of his little sister. He had been hoping that Miya would not hear of the explosion until after she arrived home, but her urgent voice on the line told him that he was out of luck on that score.

"Marcello! A bomb went off! Roberto…."  
She paused to draw in a deep breath, exhaling with a sob.

"He was downtown today…at the municipal building. He's not answering his cell and there is no answer at the firm. "Oh, Marcello, qué haré? No puedo llevar esto, yo no puedo!"_**1**_

Although disposing of his sister's fiancé had no real moral qualms for him, Marcello knew that a betrayal of this nature would be unforgivable to Miya….and likely to his father as well. He had wanted to be the one to break the news of Robert's unfortunate demise, giving himself the opportunity to put whatever spin on it that he saw fit.

"Miya , permanece por favor tranquilo. Va a ser acceptable. Roberto may have already left the building. I'm going to try to reach Ernesto. Go straight home and call me right away if you hear anything."**_2_**

After spending a good five minutes trying to reassure his distraught sibling that her beloved Roberto was, in all probability, _not_ among the dead, in spite of his knowledge to the contrary, Marcello paid his bar tab and headed for the door. Ramon was supposed to dispose of the delivery van and meet him by the pier to pick up the second half of his payment for the job. Patting the bulging envelope in the front pocket of his sports jacket, which contained twenty five thousand dollars in one hundred dollar bills, Marcello smiled. Regardless of the pain that this recompense would bring to his baby sister, it was the best fifty grand he'd ever spent.

**_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

Robert Torres found himself stuck in the elevator of the parking garage at the Los Angeles County Municipal Building, along with a dozen other people. The sliding doors had just closed behind him when the explosion rocked the entire building, including the parking structure, which was adjacent to the office building. There were so many car alarms going off in response to the tremor that the elevator's occupants could hear the din of beeping and whooping through the thick metal walls. Panic ensued within the elevator, even though the emergency brakes had locked the unit in place. It took several minutes for everyone to calm down enough for the man closest to the emergency phone to be able to hear the voice on the other end of the line, which told them to stay put until help arrived.

Most of the men and women on the elevator checked their cell phones, only to find there was no signal, and once again, panic ensued. It only took a half an hour for emergency services to bring the elevator down and free its occupants, but by then Robert had a pretty good idea of what had happened. A bomb had gone off in the USDA's offices. If he had not been delayed by downtown traffic, Robert would have been in one of those offices going over the final witness roster with Howard Meeks. There were steps beyond the law that were being taken, which would lead to the freedom of Miguel Valdario. However, blowing up the United States Attorney's office was not one of the arrangements that Robert and the other ranking members of the cartel had made. There was only one person with the _cojones _to try a stunt like that without the knowledge of the rest of the family. The fact that this was, more likely than not, arranged with the intention of burying him along with the prosecuting attorney, only added to Robert's anger and he cursed under his breath.

"Marcello!"

_**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

Talking with Don on the phone had been a somewhat surreal experience for Charlie. His older brother had been brief, stating that he couldn't talk about any details over the phone, but that he was fine. When Charlie had asked about David, who had appeared to be injured when Larry had seen him on television, Don had immediately ended the conversation saying that he had to call Megan. After offering up his reassurances, Larry left for his office to do much the same thing.

The campus was immediately abuzz with the news of the explosion and speculation about who had done it and why. It took less than ten minutes for Amita to call Charlie's cell phone to check on him and while he was on the phone with her, the second protective surveillance unit arrived. Much to their credit, the small group of federal agents kept their distance from Charlie as he walked across campus to pick Adam up from the daycare. One man walked less than five feet behind him, while the other three ventured out in all directions as if they were meandering along on their own accord. Walking past the groups of somber students who were discussing the situation downtown, Charlie had an odd feeling of déjà vu. It felt a little like September 11th all over again – only on a much different scale.

When Charlie finally pulled into the driveway, he was not at all surprised to see his father's car already parked next to the garage. He knew that Alan had a late afternoon meeting downtown not far from the site, which obviously would have been canceled in light of the current situation. Every building within a three-block radius had been evacuated and people had been asked to go home so that rescue efforts would not be hampered by commuter traffic.

Even though Charlie knew that Don had not been at the municipal building and was safe, he still couldn't help feeling relieved when he saw his brother sitting on the couch. Don was watching the television intently; the remote in one hand and his cell phone in the other, with the house phone sitting on the coffee table next to him. Charlie stopped at the edge of the couch and said, "Did you talk to Megan? Have they been able to verify that it was Valdario's people who planted the bomb?"

Don turned at the sound of his brother's voice and Charlie's heart skipped a beat at the bereaved look on the older man's face.

"There're still pulling bodies out of the rubble. Howard Meeks was injured but he's alive…" Don sounded dejected, and almost frightened, as if he were hovering on the verge of some sort of emotional outburst that he refused to give in to.

Adam, unaware of the somber mood, let loose with a stream of boisterous syllables that brought Alan out of the dining room. "Here, Charlie, let me take Adam."

The sad and pensive air that seemed to permeate his father's voice sent a shiver down Charlie's spine. Something bad… something far worse than what he already knew, must have happened. He robotically handed the baby over to his father and went to sit next to Don on the couch. His brother had turned his head back to the television screen, refusing to look away. Charlie studied his brother's profile, searching for an answer in his silence. Don seemed to be scanning the images on the screen as if looking for something. His shoulders were so tense that it looked as if his whole body were fighting the urge to tremble. When Charlie put his hand gently on Don's shoulder, his brother clenched his teeth, his jaw working to keep something at bay. Swallowing hard, Charlie finally found his voice.

"Don?… The team... Are they…..Is David..?"

Without looking away from the screen, Don spoke in a low and controlled voice, though the tremor in it was still audible.

"He ended up with a dozen stitches, but he's gonna be fine." It was obvious that David's injuries were not what had Don so distraught and Charlie could barely hear his brother's voice when he said, "A lot of people died today… good people. They didn't deserve this…" Then in the barest whisper, "She didn't deserve this."

Charlie moved around so that he was squatting in front of Don, blocking his view of the television screen. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes and Charlie felt his heart constrict at the pain he saw there.

Don lowered his head, averting his gaze to the floor. He was refusing to allow himself to cry, but Charlie could hear the sorrow in his voice when he said, "Robin's dead."

"Oh. Oh, man. Don…."

Despite the fact that Robin had ended their relationship, Don had stayed friendly with her. She had been the first woman that he had really tried to have a steady relationship with, and even after their stint as lovers came to an end, they had managed to remain friends. The news of her death had obviously hit Don like a train wreck even though he was fighting to suppress his emotions for all that he was worth. Leaning forward, Charlie laid his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"What can I do?"

"Nothing, Charlie."

Don lifted his head and met his brother's eyes.

"We don't need math to tell us who's responsible for this."

"No, Don, we don't." Squeezing Don's shoulder tenaciously, Charlie continued.

"And you don't need me to tell you that this wasn't your fault."

Setting his jaw, Don dropped the TV remote on the coffee table and put his right hand up on Charlie's shoulder, duplicating his brother's gesture.

"I know that, Charlie. I do. But she's dead, and if it weren't for Valdario…."

"He's going to get what's coming to him, Don. Thanks to you, he's going to pay for the lives he's destroyed."

Charlie's words rang true, and Don nodded slowly as he fought to maintain his composure. After a few moments, he dropped his hand from Charlie's shoulder.

"Megan's coming over with some stills from the surveillance videos to see if I can identify anyone."

Giving Don's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Charlie stood.

"Do they have a suspect already?"

"Yeah, Howard says there were some flowers delivered shortly before he left his office and David saw a man in a delivery truck driving away right before the explosion. Megan is working with building security to see if there are any good shots of the guy's face."

"That's great news."

"Yeah." Don picked up the remote and flicked off the television. "Well, there were so many people coming in and out of that compound, chances are, I've seen everybody who works for the cartel at least once. Maybe we'll get lucky."

_**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

Ernesto Sabelli hung up his phone and sat back in his chair, heaving a deep sigh. He had known from the beginning that they had little chance of getting a not guilty verdict if the case against his client and friend, Miguel Valdario, made it past the grand jury. If the US government began adding charges to the accusations, even something as minuscule as simple manslaughter in relation to this afternoon's bombing, their situation would go from bad to worse.

Miguel was a very proud man, and he was like a brother to him. Ernesto knew better than to ask him to accept a plea bargain up to this point. But now, it was his obligation as his attorney to inform him that he would be a fool not to plea out for lesser charges in exchange for bringing down the rest of the syndicate. There were so many men who had violated United States law on behalf of the cartel, including, but not limited to, his own junior partner, Robert Torres. Still, he knew with absolute certainty that Miguel would never make such a plea. He was also quite confident that the Miguel Valdario he knew would never be sentenced to life in a federal prison.

He knew plenty about the cartel's many enterprises, always able to claim client attorney privilege when the FBI came calling. Robert, his young protégé, had gone a step farther and jumped into the organization with both feet. With plans to wed the only daughter of the cartel's kingpin, Robert was setting himself up for a prosperous life as Valdario's son-in-law and quite possibly the next head of the most powerful drug cartel operating on the west coast. However, according to Robert, Marcello Valdario had just announced loud and clear that he was next in line. If he asked Marcello for the truth, Miguel's eldest son would give it to him. Of course, he would never confess to the attempted murder of his sister's fiancé, and there was no way to prove that Robert's close call was intentional.

The other ranking members of the cartel would be angry about Marcello's involvement, and Ernesto would have to spend some time putting out the fires that this would cause inside the organization. It would be painfully obvious that someone in the Valdario cartel was attempting to sabotage the US Government's case. Robert had been working on behalf of the syndicate to find a discrete way to handle this situation and now he would be hard pressed to bring it to any kind of workable resolution.

The evidence that Marcello had intended to destroy in the explosion and subsequent fire had been moved by the e_xcesivamente paranoico_ USDA, Howard Meeks. The entire disastrous endeavor to destroy the prosecution's case was in vain. Now the FBI would be prepared and Robert would have to work around their increased efforts to protect the government's witnesses. His junior partner had just learned the hard way that power, in an organization like this, is worth killing for. And now, Robert knew too well that Marcello was not going to tolerate his intrusion into the family business.

_**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

Robert pulled into the long private driveway of his waterfront villa and took a deep breath in an effort to reel in his temper. Ernesto had warned him that no good would come of confronting Marcello for this act of unnecessary sadism. Besides, they had no real proof that his would-be brother-in-law was behind the bombing. However, Robert was unable to put aside the notion that he was supposed to be in that office when the bomb was detonated. That, he was certain, was intentional. But again, he would never be able to prove it.

It had taken him nearly an hour to reach the villa due to the traffic congestion associated with the incident. When he pulled up around the landscaped island that served as a focal point for the circular driveway, Miya flew out the front door. She tore down the pathway and launched herself at him before he could even close the car door.

"Oh mi dios, Roberto. Usted es seguro, usted es entero. Déjeme mirarle."**_3_**

His anger at Marcello was instantly put onto the back burner. Wrapping his arms around his fiancé, Robert kissed her deeply before pulling back and holding her face in his hands. She had tears running down her cheeks and her eyes were red and puffy from crying.

"Yes, my love, I am safe, I am whole. Look, see, I do not even have a scratch on me."

"But why then didn't you call me, Roberto? I have been worried sick ever since I heard of the bombing. Were you there? Were you in that building when it happened?"

Robert wrapped his arm around her slender shoulders and guided her into the villa.

"I was at the municipal building when the bomb went off, but I was still in the parking garage. It's underground; I could not use my cell phone. And, the lines have been very busy, I tried to call, but I could not get through. So I rushed home to you, _mi amor_."

Robert had led his betrothed into the living room, sitting her down on the Victorian sofa that faced the large bay window, which overlooked the right side of the veranda and the garden. She was not inclined to let go of him now that she had him safely in her arms. Looking up into his eyes, Miya marveled in the fact that he was right there in front of her, safe. She had been horrified to watch the news, live from the scene, as fire rescue personnel brought out the bodies of the dead. The camera that took the pictures was too far away to get a recognizable view of any of the victims that were laid out, but she felt her heart leap every time the body of a man was carried from the rubble.

"Oh, Roberto. How did this happen? The news said that the United States District Attorney's office was bombed and that they suspect papa's _organización_ What do you know of this Roberto? Who did this thing, and what does that do to the _federales_ case against my family?"

Robert had thought about what he was willing to tell Miya on his drive home. She would learn of Marcello's involvement, so there was no point in keeping that from her. The tricky part would be how he was going to tell her of the motive behind his timetable. Unfortunately, he never got the chance.

"Miya, I still can't reach….."

When Marcello stepped into the living room, the sight of Robert Torres, alive and well, shocked him into silence.

Smiling through the tears that were welled up in her eyes, Miya turned to her brother.

"Marcello, you were right! Roberto is alive!"

Robert turned to stare at his fiancé's older sibling.

"I'm so touched to hear of your concern for my well-being."

He could tell from the expression on Robert's face that he knew what part he was supposed to have played in this fiasco. And from the look in Miya's eyes, he knew she had not yet been told. Quickly making a decision, Marcello brought his right hand up, and made the sign of the cross over himself.

"Las gracias estén a los cielos."**_4_**

Robert had not expected to hear Marcello thanking the heavens for his safe return and he was even more shocked when the eldest Valdario dropped to his knees in front of Miya.

"It was my doing, _mi hermana_. Please, forgive me."

Miya's eyes widened in shocked disbelief at her brother's words.

"Marcello? Why?"

"I wanted to help, Miya. I only wanted to help. I did not know Roberto would be there, I only wanted to do my part to earn papa's freedom."

"Marcello, you know that Ernesto is doing what he can. And, Roberto… Papa has left it up to him to………"

Marcello cut her off; angered by her indication that Robert was more fit than he to do their father's work.

"Ernesto…he will fail, the law will fail us! Your **Robert** _will_ fail! The only way left is our way, the _familia_ way. The way papa has always taught us."

"Oh, Marcello."

Miya caught both men off guard when she pulled back her right arm and slapped her brother across the mouth with her open palm.

The smack reverberated across the room, followed by a stunned silence. She could see the hatred in her brother's eyes when he spoke Robert's name and her impulsive action to defend him left her in shock. Miya blinked several times, allowing her tears to flow freely, but the rage she was suppressing burned brightly in her eyes.

"Marcello, if I find that you knew, that you knew he was going to be there, on this day, at that hour……It is God's forgiveness you will need, not mine."

Staring up in awe at his little sister, Marcello couldn't help but to rethink his impromptu confession. Still, for her to have learned of his involvement from Robert, the facts twisted by his words to make Marcello into a monster, her forgiveness would be a much longer time coming. He was family, her brother - and Miya would forgive him in time.

As if to reinforce his thoughts, Miya used Marcello's shoulder to push herself shakily to her feet.

"I love you, Marcello."

She shifted her gaze to Robert.

"And I love you, Roberto, more than life itself. I do not know what you intend to do now…to fix this. And I do not need to know. But, I am counting on you both to keep what is left of my family together. Do not fail me in this. I cannot live without that which means the most to me."

She turned and walked toward the staircase, stopping to kiss Robert on the cheek as she passed by him. Marcello pulled himself to his feet and watched her walk up the stairs, remaining silent until he heard the door to the master bedroom suite close.

"Robert…."

As Marcello turned toward him, Robert stepped forward. With a vicious left hook, he hit Valdario's eldest son square in the jaw, knocking him flat onto the plush white carpet that covered the living room floor.

"The next time you aim at me, Marcello, you had better make damned sure you don't miss. What you have done has caused more problems than we need, and it has seriously compromised this case!"

Marcello picked himself up from the floor, glaring dangerously at Robert.

"What are you talking about? If the _federales_ have no evidence, they cannot lock my father up! What I did today will save him!" Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "And I did not know that you were going to be there."

Robert could see the lie in Marcello's eyes, but he kept to the facts that he could prove.

"There were copies stored safely elsewhere, you idiot! Once again, your incompetence has nearly cost us everything! You contacted Ramon didn't you?"

After a moment's silence, Marcello nodded his head slowly and Robert continued.

"If Ramon was seen, if he can be identified, they will add this to the charges against your father. They know Ramon from the compound; he's on the FBI's most wanted list for God's sake, right there next to your name_, t__onto_. Now the FBI will have doubled their efforts to protect the federal witnesses, and there is no way that we will be able to get anywhere near that agent or his family!"

Marcello took a step back and sunk into the couch where Miya had just been seated. It had never occurred to him that there would be copies of the USDA's records, or that he would have stored the evidence at a secondary location. The fact that his actions had now landed his father in even deeper trouble almost overcame the anger and hatred that he felt toward Robert – almost.

Taking a deep breath and lowering his voice, Robert continued. "I had a plan. A plan that would have freed your father!"

"Is it too late, then?"

Looking up at the man who he had made his archenemy, Marcello shook his head.

"Surely there is still something that can be done."

"Yes, there is."

He waited for Marcello to raise his eyebrows in a silent question, and then he said, "I have a line on the agent's brother, your spy from the compound in Cali. That is all you need to know."

Nodding in agreement, Marcello rubbed his jaw where Robert had hit him.

"Very well."

_**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

Tiptoeing down the stairs, Charlie headed for the kitchen, stopping in the living room to open the curtains and let the early morning light stream in. Adam had been particularly fussy last night; as if he could feel the tension that yesterday's tragedy had left on all of their shoulders. Charlie was anticipating a serious need for coffee if he was going to make his 8 AM lecture. It was finally Friday, the last day in the first full week of classes and he was more ready for the weekend than he had ever been.

Not only had Adam gotten Charlie up in the middle of the night, but Megan's late arrival had also kept them all up well past their standard bedtime.

Don had been pacing the living room, waiting for her to show up with the pictures from the surveillance videos, when Megan finally pulled into the drive at half past eleven. As soon as she entered, Don stopped his pacing and stared straight at her, waiting for a report. It took him a moment to realize that he was acting like the lead agent rather than a witness, but when it dawned on him, he quickly sat down on the couch and heard everything that Megan had to say.

Howard Meeks was being kept for observation at UCLA. He was now in protective custody for the duration of the trial. Since the cartel had targeted Howard and the USDA's office, it seemed fairly clear that they still had not discovered Don's identity. The cartel was getting desperate – and bold. The bombing was a rash and vicious move, but no one with any authority seemed to think that Don and his family warranted protective custody. They were dismissing the two extra protection teams that Megan had ordered immediately after the bombing. They were, however, willing to grant an extra vehicular unit to safeguard the Eppes residence. Beyond that, most of their efforts would be concentrated on keeping Don surrounded by members of his team whenever he was outside of the residence.

Megan had pulled out a still photo of the man who had delivered the flowers to the USDA's office and Don had exhibited a classic PTSD reaction to the image. He had visibly flinched at whatever memory this man's face invoked and he had to sit down before he was able to recover enough to tell Megan the man's name.

Charlie knew from Don's reaction that this man was the one who had scarred his back, inflicting immeasurable pain and humiliation on his brother. He felt his own anger surge when he pulled the picture from his hand and got a good look at the man that Don identified as Ramon Sandalio. This man had killed so many people on behalf of the cartel, and now, Robin was one of those people.

After asking for Alan and Charlie to stay home whenever possible, and reinforcing that it _was_ just a precaution, Megan left them under the guard of a grand total of five men, one of whom was actually going to sit in their backyard all night. Sure, it was a precaution, but there was no reason to give the Valdario cartel an easy time of it if they did manage to find out Don's identity.

Charlie shuttered at the thought and turned back toward the brewing coffee pot.

Don had just stepping into the bathroom when the telephone rang, and he heard Charlie's voice downstairs as he answered. When he made his way down to the kitchen, Charlie was sitting at the table looking ashen.

It was the phone call he had always known would come, but somehow had not expected. Colby had promised to let him know as soon as he knew something about Adam's aunt and uncle. Word had come over during the night; the state department had secured the Miller's release, along with the rest of the UN personal. They were due to be released sometime in the next two weeks. Afterwards, they would spend up to a week being examined, treated if necessary, and then debriefed before returning to the United States.

When he hung up the phone, Charlie felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. This was it. They were finally going to come and take Adam home with them.

"Hey, Buddy. What's going on?"

Don had walked into the room and sat down across from him and he hadn't even noticed.

"That was Colby."

He lifted his eyes to his older brother.

"Adam's aunt and uncle will be coming for him in a few weeks. The government brokered some kind of deal with…..with...whoever was holding their unit. I was never really given any details about that. But, if all goes well, they'll be here to get him in a few weeks. Colby's going to try to find out some more information and get with me later today."

Don narrowed his eyes, looking concerned.

"Charlie, I'm sorry…."

The need to move suddenly filled the young mathematician. He knew this day would come and getting upset about it would do Adam no good. He had tried to prepare himself for the fact that he would eventually be handing the care of this child…Ethan's son…over to his biological family. Bolting to his feet, Charlie grabbed his coffee cup, sloshing the dark auburn liquid onto the table.

"I'd better get going. I have an eight o'clock freshman lecture."

"Charlie! Hey, do you…are you all right, Buddy?"

Charlie moved quickly toward the door. He stopped at his brother's voice, but he didn't turn around. He was able to make his voice nonchalant, but he knew the pain in his eyes would give him away.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be all right? Don, I always knew that this day would come. It's not a problem."

As he finished speaking, he pushed through the swinging door and headed for the stairs. Charlie wasn't all right, that much was obvious. But, he had just made it quite clear that he wasn't going to talk about it right now. Shrugging his shoulders to himself, Don grabbed a dishtowel from the countertop and mopped up the spilled coffee.

David arrived at the house to take Don into the office just as Charlie was finishing Adam's breakfast. Don had filled Alan in on what had happened while Charlie had been getting Adam up and dressed and somehow he had convinced their father not to push the younger Eppes into talking about it. He was obviously in a hurry to get out of the house, having already packed his school satchel, as well as the diaper bag. As soon as he wiped Adam's face clean, he quickly unbuckled him, grabbed his bags and headed out to the car, muttering a hasty farewell at David as he passed him in the living room. David could tell something was amiss and as Charlie exited the front door without a word to Don or his father, the agent turned and raised his eyebrows.

"What's up with that?"

Don inhaled sharply.

"Damn it."

He gave David an apologetic look and quickly followed his brother out the front door.

Charlie was buckling Adam into his carseat when Don jogged up to the side of his car.

"Charlie…."

"I'm fine Don."

Charlie finished securing the baby into the five-point harness, and then he pulled his head out of the car and turned to his brother.  
"It's not like I haven't been expecting this."

"Yeah, I know. But now that it's here, well, almost here. Now that's its real…"

The tears that were threatening to spill from Charlie's eyes stopped him mid-sentence. He watched his younger brother clench his jaw, mirroring his own method of pushing down his feelings.

"Charlie…"

"No, Don. I knew this was going to be difficult. I've known that for a long time, but you're right. Now that it's real…Well, I've never been very good at letting go."

Charlie stepped aside and slammed the back door, waiting for Don to step out of his way so he could climb into the driver's seat. Instead of moving, Don stepped forward and firmly grasped both of his shoulders so that Charlie had no choice but to listen.

"Brothers are good for a lot of things, Charlie. One of them is a shoulder to lean on. Give me a chance to be that for _you_ for once, okay?"

Stepping back with a sad smile on his face, Charlie looked up at Don and nodded.

"I'm going to be late for class. Will you have time for lunch?"

"Yeah….yeah."

He paused to look at his watch.

"It'll have to be early though, around eleven?"

Lowering himself into the car, Charlie buckled his seat belt and put his key into the ignition.

"Sure, I'll have time then. I usually eat lunch with Adam at the café, just to get him out of the daycare for a while, you know?"

Don nodded, glancing at the happy baby in the backseat of Charlie's car.

"That's cool. I'll call you when I get there then."

Charlie gave him a one handed wave before putting the car in reverse and backing out onto the street. Don waited by the driveway until the black car with government plates pulled away from the curb before he turned back toward the house. The maroon car from down the street pulled up to take its place since Alan was following Megan's advice and working from home today. Turning his head to the left, he saw another unit parked just down the street. The fifth agent, a man who Don had worked with for years, had been assigned to patrol the area on foot during the night. He was supposed to leave at first light, but he had remained behind and was waiting to follow him and David back to the office. With an appreciative nod in his direction, Don made his way quickly back through the front door.

_**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

It was just after eight when Robert Torres received a phone call telling him that the agent's brother was in class and would be for most of the morning and afternoon. If he stuck to his schedule, they had several hours to wait before they could act.

The man on the phone was very good at what he did. Robert called him Thomas, but he was certain that no one, with the exception of the man's mother, knew his real name. His spotless record, and well-forged papers had gotten him a position with the grounds crew to the university and he had been watching the young professor for several weeks, learning his schedule and routine.

Most of Thomas' jobs for the syndicate ended with corpses. This one was a little different from his preferred assignment, as he would be required to keep the mark alive. He had been compelled to hire a partner, something else he seldom did, and soon they would lay the trap that would leave the cartel with a frightened and penitent federal agent who would do anything to keep his brother alive.

Robert was convinced that the brother was the key to it all. Getting him away from his protection detail would be tricky, but if anyone could do it, Thomas could.

Giving his final approval of the plan, Robert hung up the phone.

Now it was time to sit back and wait.

**_TBC _**

**_------------------------------------------------------------_**

**_Spanish Translations _**

_**1 **"Oh, Marcello, what will I do? I cannot bear this – I cannot!" _

_**2** "__Miya , Please, stay calm. It is going to be okay." _

_**3 **"Oh my God, Roberto. You are safe, you are whole. Let me look at you." _

_**4** "Thanks be to the heavens!" _


	21. Something Wicked This Way Comes

_A/N – Content Warning – The following chapter contains…content.  
__Yeah, they all do, but the point is; this chapter might contain content that is worthy of a warning.  
No, we are not going to tell you what kind of warning. But now you've been properly warned. We can't give it away! So, trust us. _

**Chapter Twenty One: Something Wicked This Way Comes**

Thomas Belt backed his white 350 utility van into the parking space reserved for grounds and maintenance, which was less than twenty-five feet away from the rear door of the small brick building. The man he had contracted to carry out of the first part of the plan had just arrived in a brown sedan, which he parked on the edge of the semi-circle driveway that led in front of the buildings. They both would need to have a clear path to the main road when this thing went down.

Thomas watched his partner, a man he knew as Ed Tackett, climb from his car. With a glance toward the windowless utility van, Tackett turned and began to casually stroll across campus, heading around toward the front of the single story building, which housed the daycare center.

Pulling out his 9mm Berretta, keeping it below window level, Thomas slowly screwed a long silver silencer in place. He didn't intend to use the weapon, as he had been forbidden to inflict any lasting harm on the professor. This was supposed to be a discrete job, no blood, no public violence. Sitting the loaded weapon down in the passenger seat, Thomas picked up the tranquilizer gun that he had brought and checked its load. He was using a fairly large dose of a common animal tranquilizer, which would be more than enough to knock a man as slight as Doctor Eppes out for several hours. It wasn't part of his usual method, but he wasn't going to risk trying to take this man without it.

Laying a greasy cloth over both weapons, Thomas stepped out of the van. Leaving the doors unlocked, he circled around the building, past the fenced in playground where a group of older children where playing. Some of the mulch from around the plant beds had been strewn into the yard and Thomas began to rake it up, turning toward the quad so he would be able to see the loggia that ran along the side of the mathematics building. He had never failed to collect a fee, and he was not going to start with his first kidnapping, even if he was following someone else's blueprint to pull it off. Without taking his own pride into account, failure simply was not an option. Robert Torres, representing the Valdario crime syndicate, had hired him to abduct the only brother of the FBI agent who was going to testify against Miguel Valdario. The consequences of such a failure would not only be the end of his career, but possibly his life.

He had spent the entire week mapping out every move the energetic young man made, and how the FBI agents assigned to his protection countered him. It wasn't that they couldn't keep up with him, but often they made little effort to, as long as he was within their line of sight. Thomas had fully expected yesterday's events to prompt an increase in the precautions the FBI was taking, but the professor had shown up for his early morning class with the same two agents who had followed him in on Wednesday.

The bald agent, a man named Greer, and his partner, Agent Burrows, had proved to be the slowest to react to the swift movements of the good professor, albeit only marginally so. Still, Thomas would take any edge he could get. They also kept their distance from their charge, unlike the tall slender black man, Edwards, and his stocky partner, Foster. Those two had gotten so close on Tuesday morning that the young mathematician had actually turned around and asked them to back off.

Greer and Burrows would follow him into his classrooms or his office, but Thomas had never seen them enter the Day Care Center. Perhaps they felt that it would be too obvious if they did, however there were few people on campus who didn't know that these men were _not_ students, regardless of how well they attempted to 'blend in'. While he felt a certain derision for the agents assigned to the professor, he didn't kid himself about their training or their orders where the safety and well being of Dr. Eppes was concerned. If he or Tackett were caught, they had a good chance of being killed in the process. Not that Tackett was taking much of a risk. He would never even be seen by Dr. Eppes or the agents, and he had no knowledge of the real stakes behind this undertaking. As soon as he got his lazy ass around to the front of the building, he would be responsible for leaving the trial of breadcrumbs that would lead Dr. Eppes right into his lap.

Of course, a million things could still go wrong with this operation, but as long as the professor didn't drastically change his routine, then Torres' plan should work.

So, given the fact that the conditions were perfect for this plan to succeed, Thomas was almost unprepared to see the young man and his colleague, a Professor Fleinhardt from the physics department, walking toward the Day Care Center nearly a full half hour before he usually left the math building.

Tackett saw them too and immediately quickened his pace, stopping to straighten his suit jacket before he walked casually into the building that housed the daycare center. He was supposed to have a good thirty minute lead on Dr. Eppes. Now, they would be lucky if he could get in and out before the professor caught up to him.

Dropping his rake, Thomas turned on his heel and headed back for his van. If Tackett pulled this off, there was a chance he would need to shoot that tranquilizer gun at a moving target.

* * *

As they strolled along toward the Campus Daycare Center, Charlie looked ahead at a young student rollerblading in a figure eight around two of the stone archways that lined the broad open-air walkway, which ran along the edge of the west quad. He was paying no attention to his colleague's disquisition about his lecture on String Theory as a subset of Quantum Field Theory. As the mathematician stared at the young man on the rollerblades, he could almost envision him as a young child; then as a toddler and subsequently as a baby. The capacity to envision someone throughout their growth process was not something Charlie had delved into before Adam had come into his life. But the concept of human development and the natural progression of time suddenly fascinated him.

In the four months that he had cared for this child, he had watched him grow from a helpless infant to a baby on the cusp of walking. Adam was a volatile and unpredictable variable, with a fully formed personality. He was quite willful at times when he didn't get his way; but he also harbored an uncensored delight in everything that was put before him. His curiosity was voracious and now that he was an independently mobile creature, Charlie continually found that he had to keep a very close eye on him, lest he invariably end up in a potentially dangerous situation.

"Charles?"

Charlie was pulled from his musings at Larry's light touch on his arm. Larry followed his gaze to the rollerblader and nodded pensively.

"Contemplating infinity?"

"Not the infinite, but rather the finite. Time progresses at a set pace; but as the amount of time left in a given space decreases, its passage appears to increase. Yet as we grow older things change more slowly."

"I'm I correct in assuming that you are speaking in reference to Adam and the inevitable arrival of his aunt and uncle?"

Charlie frowned slightly at the mention of the family coming to take Adam from him. He looked up into the sky with his eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the dappled sun shining between the leaves of the trees and into the exterior edge of the walkway on his face. When he brought his head down and opened his eyes he noticed the thirty-five year old 'student' sitting not so casually on a bench at the far end of the quad, waiting for him to continue moving.

'_They try to blend in, but they just can't.' _

Charlie felt a pang of irritation at the continued presence of the security precautions, although he was well aware of their necessity. The fact that dozens of people were dead and the USDA prosecuting this case had nearly been blown to bits yesterday afternoon was proof enough of that. Still, this situation was robbing him of the last few moments of happiness he would have with Adam before he was taken away. That made him angry, yet it also served as a reason to force himself to assuage his distress. He knew all to well how difficult his young charge's departure was going to be and he really should be trying harder to distance himself from the child, but that was a task he was finding himself not equal to. With a sigh, he continued moving toward the daycare center.

"He has changed so much, Larry. When I first met Adam, he was just a helpless infant. He ate, slept and pooped; and that was pretty much it. There were no real emotions to perceive and understand, just the basic elements of human existence. He was just a tiny invalid who needed constant attention. But now…

Larry, do you realize that he'll be walking soon?"

"Walking? Isn't he rather young for that? He's what? Seven months old now, right?"

"Actually, he's almost eight months old. But, yes, according to everything I have read, this is quite early to start walking; especially for boys. However, he is pulling himself up on everything, a phenomenon called 'cruising' and it isn't outside the scope of normal for him to succeed, even at this early age. And he's already using words….well, it sounds like words. It's really a language all his own. He chatters on all the time, clearly enunciating everything, except…"

"You have no idea what he's saying?"

"Most of the time, I really don't. But he has vocalizations for everything and I'm growing more fluent in 'Adam' as time progresses. Some of his 'words' are easy to understand. He calls Don – 'Non', you already know he calls me 'Lee Lee'. As for the rest... well, let's just say that when he does start speaking in understandable English, it will be a verbal explosion. He'll probably go from speaking this baby gibberish to fully formed sentences."

Charlie took a moment to consider what he was trying to say before continuing.

"It's just that over the last few months I have watched this child change from an altricial infant, into a real person with understandable emotions and a personality that demands attention."

Larry stopped to readjust his satchel and had to trot to catch up with Charlie, who had been so focused on his diatribe that he hadn't even noticed Larry's momentary absence as he continued talking.

"He looks more and more like Ethan everyday, Larry. He has gone from wearing clothing that's four months in size to clothing sized for a twelve month old and some of those outfits are actually a little small. According to his pediatrician, he is in the ninetieth percentile for height and weight. He has grown so much, and changed so much, that I swear if I blink I'm going to miss something."

Larry fell into step next to his friend and clasped his hands in front of his chest as he walked.

"I gather this is about more than just missing his next big achievement? You're worried about how far away he will be living soon?"

"He'll be going home with them, which, from my understanding, is the east coast. Somewhere in Maryland,… I think that's what Colby said. Larry, I _have_ been trying to distance myself emotionally from this child, but it isn't working. I have even tried listing to myself all of the things that I will be able to do once he is gone, and I find that I don't care about those things so much any more. Every time I see one of those infernal agents watching me, I tell myself that this is better for him. He needs to be with his family, where he is safe and not exposed to this..." Charlie waved his hand broadly in the general direction of the end of the quad. "...this kind of danger... this uncertainty... I don't know Larry; all of these arguments, no matter how compelling, fall mute when ever I look at him."

Charlie could hear the hint of desolation in his own voice, but he continued; unconcerned as to what Larry might presume about his manifest affection for Adam.

"Even if I fly out as often as my schedule will allow, he will have changed so much that I'm not sure I would even recognize him. Will he remember me after a couple of months? He doesn't seem to remember his own parents. He doesn't cry for them, at least not that I know of. He is happy and content, so I can only assume that he isn't feeling their loss. Will that happen when he leaves me? It's been four months since Ethan and Becky died. Four months from now, will he even recognize me if I go to the east coast to visit him on his birthday?"

Charlie suddenly stopped walking and stood staring up at the bright afternoon sun again. When he spoke, it was with an edge to his voice that seemed uncharacteristic.

"Why the _hell_ am I doing this to myself? Adam is NOT my child. He belongs with his family. He deserves to have a family, rather than some surrogate guardian."

Charlie's dropped his chin and softened his voice. "I'm sorry. I guess this is getting kind of hard. If Colby's information is accurate, and I see no reason it shouldn't be, I expect that the Millers will be back in the states sometime in the next few weeks. I just have to keep reminding myself that this is for the best."

Once again, Charlie allowed his gaze to wander over to his 'protection detail'. "This is what is best for Adam."

"Charles, I don't think………"

Charlie's cell phone chirped loudly in the front pocket of his bag, cutting off Larry's response. As Larry held open the front door to the Campus Day Care Center, Charlie paused to pull his cell phone from his satchel. Agent Burrows casually made his way over to the wall along the arched walkway and nodded to his partner, who took up a position on the bench at the edge of the quad.

"Hello?" Charlie answered as he stepped in through the door that Larry was holding open, leaving the two agents outside.

"Charlie."  
Don's voice filled his ear.  
"Sorry, we're running a little late. I'm just pulling up to the front of the campus now."

"Hey, Don." Charlie walked toward the end of the short hallway to the large room that served as a playroom for the smallest of the daycare's constituents. "You're not late."

Larry lingered close to the door, as Charlie walked up to the knee-high wall that blocked the door of the room from the area where the crawling infants and toddlers where allowed to roam free. "Larry and I just got to the daycare. I'll get Adam and meet you out in the quad."

Opening the gate into the carpeted area, Charlie's eyes scanned the room for Adam. He didn't spot him among the other babies, and as Don began to ask about the lunch menu at the café, Charlie cut him off.

"Hang on a sec, Don."  
Deducing that Adam was still in the nursery, Charlie turned to the rotund woman who looked after the little ones.  
"Marla, where's Adam? Don't tell me he took another long nap today."

Marla scooped up a little girl with pigtails, who was trying to pull the chair out from under one of the other children, and spoke in a slightly frazzled voice.

"No, your brother picked him up. He said that you called him and asked him to."

Charlie felt as if he had just been sucker punched in the stomach. His school satchel dropped from his shoulder and the cell phone fell from numb fingers, as he stammered out a one-word response.

"W..when?"

Marla looked bewildered by his reaction as she pointed toward the rear door of the center, labeled 'exit only', which faced the parking lot.  
"Just a few minutes ago, Doctor Eppes. If you…."

Charlie didn't wait to hear the rest of her sentence and he took off at a dead run for the back exit.

"Doctor Eppes! What's wrong? What's going on?"

Charlie flew through the back door so fast; it hit the exterior wall and almost shattered the glass.

Marla's shouts had alerted the two agents just outside the front door of the building that something was amiss. They were halfway down the hall when the sound of the door, slamming against the cobblestone mortar, reverberated through the small center.

Reacting to the loud noise, both agents drew their weapons, bursting into the playroom, just as Larry grabbed the phone from where Charlie had dropped it on the floor. The sudden appearance of two armed men elicited a scream from Marla, which in turn, frightened the children and started up a chorus of terrified shrieks.

Ignoring the ruckus, Agent Burrows grabbed Larry's arm and shouted, "Where is Doctor Eppes?"

Using the telephone as a pointer, Larry gestured toward the back door. Both agents were halfway across the room before Larry got out the words, "Someone just abducted Adam Burdick!"

When Tackett exited the rear of the daycare center with the child in his arms, Thomas plucked his dart gun up from the front seat and opened the sliding door of his van, waiting for the professor to exit the building. If he believed that his brother had just walked out that door, he would have no reason to alert the agents with him that he was exiting through the back. Silently urging Tackett, who was strolling toward his car at a controlled pace, to move faster; Thomas stepped behind the dumpster. Using it as cover, he lifted the dart gun and aimed for the backdoor.

The door slammed open moments later, and Charlie came tearing out of the rear entrance to the daycare center. The young man didn't slow his pace until he reached the edge of the parking lot. Thomas had just lifted the gun and had his finger on the trigger, when the two agents dashed through the door, followed closely by the other professor who had accompanied Dr. Eppes into the daycare.

If the agent's guns had not been drawn, Thomas might have exchanged the dart gun for his automatic. But even if he opened fire on the two agents, chances were at least one of them would get a shot off in his direction. If Tackett could get away with the baby, they would still have accomplished half of their mission, and the cartel would still have a means to manipulate the agent who was testifying against Valdario. Spying the professor, the two agents moved forward and Thomas immediately stowed the dart gun.

In those split seconds, Charlie had scanned the entire parking lot. Seeing no one, he turned his head toward the semi-circle driveway that lead in front of the buildings. He immediately spied the conspicuously large man in a dark suit, holding Adam in his arms. The man had picked up his pace when the back door had flung open and he was heading toward a brown sedan.

"ADAM!"

Ed Tackett turned his head toward the voice. Seeing that Belt had failed to subdue the professor, he put on an extra burst of speed to get to his car.

"ADAM!" Screaming the child's name, Charlie changed his route, turning toward the man with a speed that astonished Larry and the pursuing agents.

Keeping his voice amazingly calm and feeling like he was commentating at a golf tournament, Larry relayed the scene to Don over the phone.

"Don, the kidnapper is heading for a dark brown sedan. Charlie is running after them, as well as the agents who were watching Charlie, but they won't get there in time. "

"Adam! STOP!"

The man didn't look back, but he knew from the proximity of the voice that he didn't have time to put the baby in the car seat that was waiting in the back of his sedan.

"Help! He's taking my baby! ADAM!"

He could see that the professor's shouts had drawn the attention of several people from across the semi-circle, and now they too where heading in his direction. The situation was made worse by the fact that the baby in his arms had suddenly realized that something was wrong and he had started screaming at the top of his lungs, as if he were returning the professor's call. When his screams failed to guarantee his release, the baby began to struggle against the restraining arm of his abductor.

Yanking the driver's door open, Tackett jumped in and turned the key, which was already in the ignition. Adam, unaccustomed to such rough treatment, began to scream even louder. As he tried to sit the baby up in his lap, so he could turn the steering wheel, the child began to claw at his arm and squirm, desperately trying to release himself from the force that was restraining him. Pushing the increasingly hysterical baby down on his lap, the man gunned the accelerator and tore out of his parking spot, sideswiping a red firebird as he peeled away from the man who was chasing him on foot.

Agent Greer had stopped at the end of the parking lot and as the sedan passed by; he shouted, "FBI! STOP!"

Taking aim at the retreating vehicle, he fired a shot, attempting to blow out the tire.

"NO! What are you doing!?" Charlie screamed in protest, fearing that the baby would be hit by the gunfire.

"Doctor Eppes, get back in the building!"

Ignoring the commanding voice of Agent Burrows, Charlie never even slowed down.

Despite the fact that there was no hope of ever catching up to the car on foot, Charlie continued to chase after the vehicle as it moved around the semi-circle toward the road. He was overwhelmed with relief when he looked past the car speeding toward the exit and saw Don's big black SUV.

From the moment that Don heard Larry tell the protective detail that Adam had been abducted, an almost instinctually reactive persona seemed to envelop him and he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. He turned frightened eyes to Colby, who had accompanied him to the college and was planning on joining them for lunch to give Charlie an update on the Millers.

"Don... what...?"

Colby never got a chance to finish his sentence as Don, cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear, flipped on the lights and siren that were standard on all FBI issue vehicles. Don's voice was steely, but calm, when Larry finally put the phone to his ear and began speaking.

"Larry, tell me exactly what's happening!"

When Larry called into the phone that the kidnapper hadn't left campus, and that Charlie, Greer and Burrows were chasing him; Don gave up on giving cars time to get out of his way. Steering his vehicle up onto the sidewalk and through the grass, Don never even took his foot off the accelerator. The phone dropped from its perch between his chin and shoulder with the first swerve and subsequent bump, and Colby instinctively reacted, grabbing it before it hit the floor.

As Don rounded the corner, he scanned ahead to see if any cars were coming out of the driveway, which was about four hundred yards ahead.

There were no vehicles moving in the day care center's small parking lot, but Don could see Charlie running at top speed down the semi-circle driveway, toward the road. Agent Greer had just fired a shot toward a brown sedan, which was heading toward the exit.

Colby had taken over the conversation with Larry and followed Don's gaze. He heard the driver of the sedan gun the engine, and much to his amazement, Charlie's pace actually increased. The thought passed through the back of his mind that Charlie could probably give him or David a run for their money. Looking back into the hard eyes of his boss, Colby ignored the now frantic voice of Larry Fleinhardt and said almost calmly, "You won't make that entrance in time, Don. I'm calling this in."

Colby flipped the phone shut, cutting off the physicist's words, then opened it again and speed dialed Megan. Colby turned his head and saw Burrows drop to one knee and take aim, following Greer's example and firing at the sedan.

Keeping his eyes on the moving car, Don knew Colby was right and that he couldn't get to the driveway in time to block the exit. The fact that the agents had both fired at the vehicle only served to increase his fear. Agents as well trained as Greer and Burrows did not draw their weapons if they did not intend to use them and they never fired unless they had a clear shot. But seeing Charlie actually running ahead of the agents, he couldn't help but curse at the two men.

"God damn it! They're gonna hit Charlie or Adam!"

Don steered the SUV up over the curb again, and cut across the grassy slope. Megan answered her cell just as he hit the gas, gunning the eight-cylinder engine. Colby quickly relayed the situation to the acting agent in charge, as they flew down the slope at an angle, ripping up the turf. Don crashed over the curb at the mouth of the parking lot, jostling the SUV and causing Colby to inadvertently cut Megan off and drop the phone, just as the kidnapper's car flew out of the last curve and into the straight a way.

Charlie saw the sedan nearly crash into the side of his brother's vehicle and his heart jumped into his throat. He knew Adam would never survive a car crash if he wasn't properly buckled into a car seat. By some strange miracle, the vehicle defied the laws of physics and managed to stop just short of making contact with his brother's truck by mere inches, effectively pinning Colby in so that he would have to exit through the driver's side after Don.

The driver's door of the sedan instantly swung open and the man jumped out. He had Adam tucked under his left arm like an awkwardly sized football, as he took off in a full run back toward the west quad. Climbing from the SUV, Don pulled his weapon and shouted, "FBI! Put the child down and put your hands on your head!" He knew it was a waste of breath, but he wanted everyone in earshot to hear him identify himself as federal agent.

Charlie never slowed down, veering quickly to his left, a full pursuit-model graph playing out in his mind. He heard his brother's voice echo across the parking area, but he could also hear Adam's screams, prompting him to continue his own pursuit.

"Leelee Leelee Leelee"

The child's terrified voice, calling for him repetitively, fueled an unfamiliar fire in Charlie's soul. Putting on an incredible burst of speed, Charlie was peripherally astounded to find that he was actually gaining on his target. He could clearly see Adam struggling in the man's grip. His little legs were kicking as hard as he could manage and he continued to scream for Charlie. When the terrain began to slope, the man momentarily lost his footing and while Charlie watched helplessly, Adam fell out from under the kidnappers arm.

Tackett turned his head to look back at the baby as he bounced on the grass and rolled, but he didn't dare slow down, and once he was unencumbered by the wiggly and surprisingly heavy baby, he put on a new burst of speed.

When Adam hit the ground, Charlie was sure that his heart actually stopped. Adam stopped crying on impact and as the baby bounced twice, and then rolled toward him, Charlie was certain that the fall had killed him.

"Adam! No!"

* * *

Charlie's pace never faltered, but time seemed to slow to a crawl as he approached the now still form lying in the grass. When he dropped to the ground next to the baby, he couldn't quite comprehend what he was seeing. Adam was lying there on his back with his mouth opened wide as if he were crying. But despite the child's efforts, there was no sound. He didn't appear to be dead at all, but he wasn't breathing either. As his face began to turn a shocking shade of red, Adam took in a huge breath and the scream that emanated from him was the most frighteningly wonderful sound Charlie had ever heard in his life.

Even in his panic, Charlie logically considered that he should not move the baby. Rather than pick him up, Charlie leaned down over Adam and placed his cheek against the baby's tear streaked face in an attempt to offer some sort of comfort while the distraught child's screams filled his ears. However, when Adam opened his eyes and saw Charlie hovering right over him, he reached up with surprising strength and grabbed a hold of the young mathematician's neck. Adam sat up on his own accord and literally tried to climb up Charlie's chest. Scooping the screaming baby up into his arms, Charlie was suddenly overwhelmed with the same emotion that had prompted his desperate sprint after the car.

The two agents in his protection detail were right on Charlie's heels and Agent Burrows stopped to hover over him, while Greer continued after the would-be kidnapper.

"He okay, Doctor Eppes?"

Charlie began to rock back and forth on his knees, unaware or simply not caring about the concern of the agent standing behind him. After a moment, Burrows gave up on getting an answer as he scanned the area for any secondary threats.

Besides the fierce anger at the thought that someone had dared to try to take this child away from him, Charlie was overwhelmed with the desire to protect Adam at all costs… - at _any_ cost. Holding him as tightly as Adam was clinging to his neck, Charlie realized quite suddenly that he would give up _everything_…including his own life, if that was what it took, to keep this child safe. His whole body was shaking badly and tears ran freely down his face as Charlie held Adam close. Still rocking him back and forth in a comforting motion, Charlie didn't even realize what he was saying.

"Oh, baby. Its okay, I've got you now. Daddy's got you."

Colby and Don came tearing up the slope toward Charlie and the infant. Colby never veered from his target, the unspoken understanding that Don would stop to check on Charlie and the child. As Don came to a stumbling halt, he could hear Charlie crying and the words that he was saying. With a glance at Agent Burrows, Don asked, "Is he all right? Charlie! Is Adam all right?"

When Charlie lifted his head and met his brother's eyes, Don knew he would never forget the look of pure rage etched on his younger brother's face. He thought that the look he had seen in Charlie's eyes when they discussed Valdario was malevolent, but that paled in comparison. This was a sight that was instantly etched into his mind forever and as Charlie's upper lip curled, he practically spit out the words.

"Go! Get that son of a bitch!"

Don didn't need to be told twice. Casting a hard stare at Burrows, which clearly said 'don't let anyone near him', he turned on his heel and took off running after the Colby, Greer and the kidnapper. The kidnapper had gotten a considerable head start on all three of his pursuers and Don pumped his arms attempting to gain speed. As he scanned the terrain to see what direction their quarry might take, he saw Colby actually surpass Agent Greer and motion him to cut to the right. Then, Colby moved left and used a decline in the slope to put on an additional burst of speed.

"FBI! STOP!"

The man realized that Colby would overtake him on his present course and veered off to the right, running directly into Agent Greer. He literally bounced off the large man and into Colby, who grabbed him roughly by the lapels and lifted him off his feet, body-slamming him into the ground.  
"I SAID, 'STOP'!"

The man landed flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him, as Colby came down across his sternum, pinning him to the ground. Don caught up with them seconds later. Agent Greer had his gun trained on the man, as Colby reached for his cuffs. Without missing a beat, Don stepped up to the suspect and put his foot under the man's shoulder. As Colby moved aside, Don kicked the suspect over onto his belly.

"Mister, you just made the biggest mistake of your life."

Reaching down, he grabbed the man's arms and yanked them behind his back with vicious force that made him cry out in pain. A quick search of the suspect yielded an un-holstered 9mm Beretta. Don retrieved the weapon and after checking the safety, handed it to Agent Greer, who tucked it into his own waistband. By this time, sirens were clearly identifiable in the distance.

Don twisted the kidnapper's arms and dropped to one knee on the man's back, causing another grunt of pain as he took the cuffs that Colby held out and fastened them a little too tightly over the kidnapper's thick wrists.

"FBI, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, which is probably a damn good idea, because if you say anything I don't want to hear right now, I might actually kill you."

Taking a deep breath, Don managed to get his anger in check, and he quickly delivered the remainder of the man's Miranda Rights without any additional adlibbing. The recitation of the familiar words acted almost as a mantra that allowed Don to gain complete control over his raging emotions. Then, he lifted his eyes to his fellow agents, who were both staring at him apprehensively as if they were waiting for him to start pistol-whipping the cuffed suspect. He met Colby's eyes and nodded. The silent reassurance eased the other agent's shoulders and Don almost smiled as he said, "That was one hell of a take-down. Did you two practice that at some point?"

He was only partially joking. The move was executed so flawlessly that it almost looked choreographed. Agent Greer chortled in response, but turned somber again as he looked back up the hill to where Agent Burrows was acting as the lone sentry over the man they were supposed to be protecting.

Charlie was still rocking back and forth on his knees, holding the baby. Holstering his weapon, Colby jerked his chin in the direction of the distraught mathematician.

"Go check on Charlie, Don. We've got this scumbag."

With a look of appreciation at both Colby and Greer, Don jogged back across the quad toward the place where Charlie sat in the grass with Adam. An ambulance had arrived while Don was cuffing the kidnapper and an EMT was trying to get Charlie to release his hold on the baby so he could check him for injuries. As Don approached the scene, Larry rushed up next to him. The physicist looked out of sorts and was still clutching Charlie's cell phone tightly in a white knuckled fist.

"When I saw the baby fall I felt it would be prudent to call for an ambulance, just in case."

Don nodded in agreement, and then suddenly realized that they were nearly surrounded by a throng of on-lookers. Agent Burrows still had his weapon drawn and looked prepared to open fire into the crowd if he though for one minute that any of them posed a threat to Charlie or Adam.

Don took another deep breath, and blew it out loudly. He could hear more sirens in the distance and knew that LAPD had also been called. "Okay, let's move back folks, there's nothing to see here!"

Larry joined in his efforts, asking several people he knew to give Professor Eppes some space.

Thomas Belt had abandoned his vehicle, as well as his weaponry, milling in with the crowd that was forming around the scene. He could see Tackett in handcuffs, being lead toward the SUV that had blocked his escape. When his apprehended cohort slipped and nearly fell, the crowd actually cheered and Thomas quickly applauded in unison with several of the students. When Tackett turned his head, he quickly spun around. The last thing Thomas needed was for Tackett to call him out in the middle of this crowd.

At that moment, two LAPD cruisers pulled up just behind the ambulance. With a glance at Charlie, Don altered his course to meet them at the curb. Identifying himself as a federal agent, Don quickly briefed them about the attempted abduction, leaving out the back-story as to why this particular CalSci professor needed federal agents trailing around after him. Pointing out the cuffed suspect, whom his fellow agents were leading across the parking lot, Don thanked them for their quick response, and asked them to work on crowd control and take witness statements. When the LAPD officer asked him if he was in charge, Don hesitated. Turning back toward the hilltop, he saw Charlie was still kneeling on the ground with Burrows hovering over him.

"You want to talk to Agent Granger. He's in charge of this scene," he said pointing Colby out to the officer, and then he headed back over to his brother.

Don could see from Charlie's pallid complexion and shaking shoulders that he was in a state of emotional shock. As the EMT attempted to pull Adam from his arms, Charlie only clutched the baby tighter. Larry was talking to him softly, but Charlie would not yield his grip on the baby. Don stepped forward and put out his hand, putting an end to the tug of war.

"Hey. Back off a minute."

Don knelt down in front of Charlie so he could see his face. The blind rage from a few minutes ago was gone and now there was stark terror reflecting back at him from his brother's dark brown eyes. Charlie's expression served to reignite his own anger and Don had to fight the urge not to get back up and rush their suspect, who was being held in place by Agent Greer while Colby was speaking with the LAPD. Forcing back the notion that he could beat any information they needed out of the cuffed man, Don turned back to his brother. When he placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder, he could feel the tension in the taut muscles and he gave his brother a tight squeeze, hoping to focus his concentration back on him.

"Charlie? Hey. Look at me, Buddy."

Charlie responded to his brother's voice and slowly his eyes began to focus on Don's face.

"Buddy, Adam fell pretty hard. He might be hurt. You need to let these people take a look at him. They won't take him anywhere without you. But you have to let them hold him for a minute."

"I almost lost him, Don." Charlie said, in a strangled voice.

Don could feel the tremors running through Charlie's body and he felt an uncustomary shakiness in his own arms as he replied.

"But you didn't, Charlie. We didn't lose him. He's right here and he's safe now. But we need to know he's okay. Now let go of the baby so these people can do their jobs."

Adam was still whimpering and breathing in harsh hiccups, but now that he was being held tightly against Charlie's chest, his sobs had subsided. When Charlie gave in and released his hold on the baby, lowering him to the grass, Adam immediately started crying again. Charlie lurched forward to pick him back up, but Don scooted over beside him and held his brother's shoulders firmly.

"He'll be okay, Charlie."

As the EMT laid Adam out flat and began an initial assessment, the child started to scream again in earnest and Don had to tighten his grip on Charlie's shoulders to keep his brother in place. He knew full well that Charlie had developed an intensely powerful agape love for Adam, but as he restrained his brother, Don was shocked at how deeply his own feelings had rooted. The sound of Adam's heart wrenching wail invoked in him an almost irrepressible desire to backhand the EMT who was making the child cry. Reminding himself that this man was only doing his job, Don continued to hold tightly to Charlie's shoulders. As the unsuspecting medical technician rotated Adam's hips to check for dislocations the baby let out an impressively loud bellow. Charlie shuddered violently at the sound and Don decided that he'd had enough. He moved Charlie slightly behind him and pulled himself to his feet, stepping up to where the EMT was kneeling with Adam.

"Is he okay?"

"He appears to be. I can't detect any broken bones or overt trauma. The scrapes on his face look to be the worst of it, but he'll still need to have x-rays so we can be certain. We'll take him to Huntington. His father will obviously be able to stay right with him but the for the rest…" he said, eyeing the man with his gun still drawn but held down as he continued to scan the crowd. "…the ER has a comfortable waiting room."

Don nodded his thanks and he turned around to help Charlie to his feet.

Less than five feet away, moving with the crowd that was beginning to disperse, Thomas Belt's mind was racing. Tackett knew nothing that could incriminate him or the syndicate, so his cohort was on his own. Torres' plan had failed, and there would be no time to call in and ask for permission to improvise. Still determined that he would not allow this to be his first failure, Thomas discreetly made his way back across the parking lot to his van.

The EMT stood with the wailing baby still in his arms. Charlie continued to look dazed and although his hysterical edge seemed to have diminished, there were fresh tears in his eyes. Nevertheless, he found his voice and stepped forward assertively.

"He's frightened. Give him to me."

With a complacent nod, the EMT slid the baby into Charlie's waiting arms and the child's struggles immediately ceased, but not his hysterical crying.

The medical technician and his partner escorted Charlie and Adam toward the ambulance, with Agent Burrows following closely behind. The agent had holstered his weapon, but he wasn't about to take his eyes off Charlie or Adam again anytime soon. Knowing he didn't have to say it, but unable to stop himself, Don turned to him and said, "No one except medical personnel goes near them, is that understood?"

Nodding, Burrows moved to step up into the ambulance. The EMT, however, put out his hand and stopped him. "Sir, we don't have room for any passengers."

Burrows pulled back his jacket to reveal his badge and gun just as Don pulled out his own badge.

"This man and the child are under federal protective custody. This agent will accompany them wherever they go. This is non-negotiable, so don't even try to fight it or he will consider _you_ a threat and you don't want that."

The EMT raised his eyebrows at the low-key effort at coercion, and moved aside so that the agent could step up into the ambulance. Burrows sat down on the gurney next to Charlie, who was cradling Adam to his chest and patting his back gently. Looking down at Don, Charlie's eyes reflected his fear and uncertainty.

"You're not coming too?"

"Hey, Buddy, don't worry. I'll be right behind you; I just have to take care of some things first. You stay with Agent Burrows, okay."

Charlie swallowed hard, and Don could tell he was trying to suppress his panic. Stepping up into the back of the ambulance, Don reached past Burrows and patted Charlie on the knee.

"I'll have someone bring your car to the hospital, where are your keys?"

"I... um... in my satchel, I think. It's... I dropped it..."

Charlie was starting to sound a little hysterical and Don squeezed his knee tightly in an effort to bring him back into focus.

"Charlie, I'm going to take care of this. You know that, right?"

Charlie furrowed his brow, but nodded and Don continued. "You just stay with Burrows and take care of Adam. That's the only thing you need to worry about. Okay, Buddy?"

Charlie nodded again. Don was about to remind him that everything was going to be all right, when the EMT spoke up from behind him, trying not to sound too irritated.

"We have to leave now."

Don stepped down onto the grass, keeping his eyes on his brother until the EMT abruptly closed the door.

After watching the ambulance back down the slope, pull out into the parking lot, and pull up onto the grass to get around the vehicles blocking the mouth of the drive, Don paused to take a deep breath. Once again, anger surged through him and he turned toward the SUV where Colby and Greer were heading with their cuffed suspect. Larry, who had been joined by Marla, as well as the head of the Campus Daycare Center, stopped him halfway there.

"Don, this is Alberta Foster, the director of the Campus Childcare Program. Miss Foster, this is Professor Eppes' brother."

The woman stepped up to Don and extended her hand. Still fighting to suppress his anger, Don declined the handshake but managed a congenial nod.

She spoke with an unsteady voice. "Agent Eppes, we are so sorry about this. Marla had never met you. Everyone knew that you were an FBI agent and she was thrown by the badge."

Marla was openly weeping and she reached out and touched Don's arm, a forlorn expression on her face.  
"I'm so s… sorry. We always ask for identification when someone we've never met picks up a child, and he had a badge and he showed me his ID and….and… I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

Don stepped away from them abruptly and turned, sprinting towards his SUV where Colby was putting the kidnapper into the back seat. Don pushed his colleague aside and roughly grabbed the suspect's shoulder, jerking him around to face him. Both Colby and Greer looked as if they expected Don to start punching the suspect in the gut, and while Greer stood back, willing to let Don get in a few well earned hits, Colby took a firm hold on Don's arm and said "Eppes, think about this."

Turning to Colby with fire in his eyes, Don shook off his restraining hand. "Back off, Granger."

Then reaching into the man's jacket pocket, he pulled out the fake badge and ID. Flipping it open for a closer look, Don had to admit that he could have been fooled by it as well. The guy hadn't gotten this badge out of a box of crackerjacks and that reinforced Don's belief that this was set up by Valdario. That led to one conclusion; his identity was no longer a secret and the absolute certainty of that fact terrified him much more than he had expected it to.

Colby stepped forward. Taking in the uncustomary look of distress on Don's face, he took the badge from his hand and gave it closer look.

"Let's see what we have here."  
Shaking his head, he addressed the prisoner.  
"Kidnapping, and impersonating a federal officer. I guess today just wasn't your lucky day was it?"

Don stepped back and let Colby take the suspect's arm to put him in the back of the vehicle. The sound of his cell phone ringing brought his attention to the floor of the passenger side and he reached in and picked it up. Seeing Megan's name on the LCD screen, he answered.

"Reeves, where are you?"

"Don! Thank God. David and I are about five minutes away. What the hell happened?"

Don shook his head, unable to come up with an adequate answer. Slamming the door of the SUV on the suspect, Colby was about to take the phone from Don's hand when he finally spoke.

"You can give me a ride, and I'll fill you in. Drive around to the parking lot behind the Campus Day Care Center. It's over at the far end of the west quad. In the meantime, get another detail over to my brother's house."

He hung up without providing any more information, and turned to look at Colby and Greer.  
"Granger, take this piece of sh..."

He stopped himself, pausing to take a deep breath, and then forced a grim smile.  
"Take the prisoner to holding, Colby, and do what you do. Greer, I need you to get my brother's satchel, he dropped it somewhere and his keys are in it. I'll have David drive Charlie's car to the hospital. Take your vehicle and stay with Burrows and my family."

He paused, emphasizing his words with steely eyes.

"Do not let them out of your sight. I want one of you with them at all times…you know the drill. Know where they are and where they are going next. As of this moment, Adam Burdick is now your responsibility, as well as my brother."

Agent Greer nodded and immediately headed back toward the daycare in search of Charlie's bag.

Don turned back to Colby. "Megan and I will meet you back at the office. I need to tell my father what happened. I don't want him to leave, so I'll have to convince him to stay put and wait for us to bring Charlie and Adam home. There's no way I can do that over the phone."

Colby looked past Don at the suspect, who was sitting in the back of the SUV, his eyes toward the floor. "It was Valdario, right?"

"Who else could it be?"

Don exhaled loudly. "It was well planned and thought out. Think about it. They must have known when Charlie picked up Adam for lunch. They knew I was a regular visitor to campus and that no one would question the badge."

As he continued to sort through the facts as he knew them, the urgency in Don's voice increased dramatically.

"They had an FBI badge with my name on it, Colby. They have _my name_, they know where my brother works, and they knew about Adam. I don't know how they found out, but the cartel knows who I am."

_**TBC**_

_A/N – I hope our warning was adequate and that it was everything you expected. We've exceeded the halfway point on this story, (at least we think so)….and we hope you are still enjoying it! Please continue to share your thoughts with us! WE love to hear from you! _

_And BTW – don't forget to vote for the 2nd annual Numb3rs awards! Google it, it's easy to find. Not that we want to sway your vote in any particular direction. (shameless plug…I confess)_

_Chapter Twenty Two is in progress….. _

'_till then_

_dHALL_

_and _

_Alice I_


	22. Consequences Are Hardly Ever Confined

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Consequences Are Hardly Ever Confined to Ourselves**

Bouncing around in the back of the ambulance, Charlie found himself grateful that Agent Burrows was not as large of a man as Agent Greer. As they backed down the slope, off the grass and onto the pavement, the service revolver on Burrows' left hip dug into Charlie's side and continued to do so with each bump that they hit. He tried to move away, but Charlie was as close to the edge of the stretcher as he could get. As they pulled out onto the avenue that led away from the college, the driver turned the siren on. The sudden sound startled Adam and the baby lifted his head to take in his surroundings. He saw Agent Burrows first and began to whimper, but Charlie whispered, "Shhhh…. its okay, Adam. You're safe."

Secure in the arms of his caregiver, the child sighed and lowered his head back onto Charlie's chest.

"Here. Wrap this around him."

The EMT handed Charlie a thin blanket that he had pulled out from under one of the seats.

Agent Burrows turned to help him unfold the blanket. As they tucked the fabric around Adam's body, Charlie cut his eyes at the agent.

"This means they know who Don is, doesn't it?"

Taking a deep breath and holding it, Burrows considered his answer. Although Agent Eppes had done a remarkable job concealing his fear and anger, he had obviously been shaken by the incident. Hell, they all had. No one had seen this coming, especially he and his partner, Greer. The assumption that the crime syndicate was behind the attempted kidnapping was a given, although no one had given it voice in front of the professor. Silently wishing he were in Agent Granger's shoes, questioning the bastard who had done this, Burrows blew the air out of his lungs. He could see that Charlie's shoulders were shaking, and he turned to the EMT.

"Give me another one of those blankets."

Agent Burrows was avoiding giving him a verbal answer, and Charlie knew it. He passively accepted the blanket and allowed the two men to pull it up around his shoulders. The unthinkable had almost happened and reminding himself that 'almost' was the word to focus on, he set his jaw against the panic that was still teetering on the edge of his consciousness.

Charlie could feel the tilt of the ambulance as they pulled off the exit and onto the highway. The ride was suddenly much smoother, but the lack of turbulence did nothing to help calm his disheveled nerves. He could still feel his pulse thrumming in his neck as he continued to pat Adam gently on the back. Determined not to give in to the hysteria that was trying to take over his mind and body, Charlie stared at the floor and concentrated on breathing.

After a few silent moments, he turned to look intently at Agent Burrows. He wanted to say something, but when he opened his mouth, he couldn't think of any words that would be appropriate for the situation. Valdario's drug cartel had demonstrated yesterday that they would stop at nothing to prevent their leader's conviction, when they blew up the USDA's office and killed over a dozen innocent people. Kidnapping a helpless baby was small potatoes for the kind of men who worked for Miguel Valdario.

Agent Burrows ran his hand over his face in a gesture that reminded Charlie very much of his brother.

"We're going to find out how this happened."

With a nod, Charlie lowered his head to rest his cheek against the top of Adam's head. "Yeah. I know."

The rest of the ride was made in silence. By the time the ambulance arrived at Huntington Memorial's emergency entrance, Adam was fast asleep and Charlie had almost managed to reduce his own pulse to a normal rate. Burrows got out first, and while he and the two medical technicians were helping Charlie out of the back of the ambulance, one of the ER staff nurses came out to see if they needed assistance. Seeing things were under control, she put her hands on her hips and stood there in silence, looking them over.

The one holding the baby was dressed like a semi-professional in khaki dungarees and an un-tucked dress shirt with a sports jacket. She had assumed this man was the child's father. But the larger man, who was wearing jeans, with a tee shirt and loose fitting, light grey sweat jacket appeared to be the one in charge. She seemed unsure as to how this pair belonged together. She eyed them skeptically for several minutes before she turned to the larger, slightly daunting man and said in a matter of fact tone, "I'm sorry, Sir, but only the parent is allowed inside the exam room with the child. Other family members have to go to the waiting room until the doctor has seen the patient."

Burrows casually moved to pull his badge out of the waistband of his pants. In doing so, he made sure she could clearly see the service revolver in his hip holster. The weapon had the desired effect, and the nurse backed up a little bit.

"I'm Special Agent Roger Burrows, ma'am. I'm with the FBI."

He showed her the badge, to reinforce his words.

"I'm afraid that these two don't go anywhere without me."

Still looking at the gun, she pointed to his waist and said, "Well, you can't come in here with that!"

Burrows rolled his eyes at the nurse and said, "Now ma'am, you know as well as I do that if I were an LAPD officer, you wouldn't have any problem with this. Now, let's just get Doctor Eppes and the baby inside."

Burrows glanced around uneasily. He suddenly felt very exposed in the open space outside the hospital's Emergency Room. The nurse, however, refused to yield. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stood before him stubbornly.

"I was talking about your cell phone. You are not allowed to have cell phones in the Emergency Room!"

The woman was obviously a little shocked to see a gun on someone who was not dressed like a cop, or a stereotypical FBI agent. Deciding to give her a break, Burrows took his cell phone from his hip holster and flipped it open, pressing the red button on the keypad until the screen went blank.

He gave the woman a quaint smile, which she countered with a sour look as she walked past him to where Charlie was being lowered into a wheelchair, still holding the sleeping baby protectively against his chest. Shrugging his shoulders, Burrows stepped back and allowed her to wheel the chair and its two occupants through the ambulance bay doors.

Thanks to the further insistence of Agent Burrows, Charlie was quickly ushered out of the public waiting room and into a private exam room. Standing in the corner, facing the entrance to the room like a quiet sentential, the agent tensed up as the door opened. Agent Greer stuck his head in and smiled. "It's only me."

He opened the door the rest of the way and entered, carrying Charlie's satchel. Seeing that the baby was sleeping peacefully in the professor's arms, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Doctor Eppes, your brother thought you might want this."

Charlie took his bag gratefully with his free arm, being careful not to jostle Adam's lolling head. "Thank you. Is Don on his way?"

Greer hesitated, and Charlie furrowed his brow apprehensively.  
"He stayed with somebody, right? I mean, he's not alone, is he?"

"After what happened today?" Greer chuckled softly as he shook his head and gave Charlie a reassuring smile. "Agent Reeves is stuck to him like glue. They'll be here in a bit."

The same cross-looking nurse from the ambulance bay had escorted Greer into the exam room. She lingered in the doorway until Agent Burrows turned and raised his eyebrows at her. Acknowledging his silent request with a scathing look, she turned and left, quietly closing the door behind her, which elicited a raised eyebrow from Greer.

Burrows scowled at the closed door and shook his head at his partner.  
"What did you think of our Nurse Rached? A real charmer, that one."

Greer glanced at Charlie, who was digging through his satchel with one hand, paying no attention to the two of them. "She was pleasant enough until she saw you. Instant ice queen. What did you say to her?"

Burrows moved closer to Greer and lowered his voice. "What; she didn't give you a hard time about your sidearm or cell phone?"

"She asked me if I had a cell phone. I told her I did, and she asked me to turn it off, so I complied." he said, with a shrug. "Never argue with the head nurse, Roger."

With a sharp snort in reply, Burrows turned back toward the door, standing as he had before his partner had arrived. As personally irritating as it was going to be to deal with this woman while they were here, it was also somewhat reassuring to know that anyone who got to that door would have to get through 'Nurse Rached' first. At that thought, a slow grudging smile lifted the corners of the Agent Burrows mouth.

_**999999999999999999999999999**_

With the black SUV flanked by an LAPD squad car and a beige sedan containing two more federal agents, Colby pulled up to the rear entrance of the downtown federal building. None too gently, the suspect was pulled from the back of the vehicle and taken inside. After being hastily fingerprinted, he was escorted directly into the smallest, darkest interrogation room they had.

Instructing one of the techs to immediately bring him any hits they got on the prints, Colby stopped by Megan's desk to retrieve a manila file folder that was filled with pictures from yesterday's bombing. Then, he stepped into the observation area that was adjacent to the interrogation room where their suspect was waiting. He wanted take a minute to observe the suspect alone, and consider his approach. This man had been hired by someone, and although they all knew who was behind the attempted kidnapping, they needed this man to attest to it, or they had nothing.

The lights were off in the small observation area, but someone had already turned on all the equipment. The TV monitors had been switched on and the digital recorder was already running, capturing on video every bead of sweat that ran down the suspect's face. The two-way glass that separated the rooms showed the reflection of someone else behind him and Colby turned toward the figure.

"Can you handle this one, Granger? I understand you were there."

Walter Merrick was leaning against the far wall, pursing his lips skeptically.

"Hell, yeah, I was there." Stepping forward, Colby dropped his file folder onto the table top and glared at the Assistant Director. "And trust me; I can handle it just fine."

With a cynical smirk, Merrick approached the table of audio/video equipment and leaned forward, squinting at the man on the TV monitors.

"This has to be done right, Agent. If you feel like you need to recues yourself……"

Colby interrupted with a disbelieving laugh, as he crossed his arms defensively across his chest. "Tell me you're joking."

Raising one eyebrow, Merrick shrugged. "Granger, if you can walk in there and question that man without knocking his teeth out, you're a better man than I."

The comment elicited a genuine smile from Colby and he relaxed his stance. "Man, he dropped that baby and ran like his feet were on fire and his ass was catching. If he knows anything, it won't take much from me to get him to roll."

He gestured at the monitors. "Look at him; he's already sweating bullets. He'll deal before he willingly goes down for these guys."

Straightening up and turning toward the two-way glass, Merrick shook his head.

"Assuming he even knows anything."

"Well, why don't I go find out?"

With a tightlipped smile, Colby picked up his folder from the table top. Turning away from the assistant director, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

In the conference room across the hall, several stacks of boxes caught his eye. Every document they'd ever seen concerning Miguel Valdario was in those boxes, in the middle of the FBI bullpen. Now that the USDA was in protective custody himself, it had seemed like the best place to keep the original copies of these papers. Dropping his folder on the top of the first stack, Colby lifted the top two boxes and carried them with him into the interrogation room.

Dropping the boxes dramatically on top of the table, Colby turned back toward the door and slammed it shut. Without turning around, he stepped over to the window that gave them a view of the bullpen and roughly closed the blinds. With a hard stare at the suspect, Colby slowly removed his suit jacket and threw it across the back of the chair.

"Mister Tackett? Is that correct?"

The man nodded, but did not verbally respond. He hadn't asked for a lawyer, and had willingly given his name to the agent who took his fingerprints. Although it was likely an alias, Colby repeated the name several times.

"Edward Tackett. Ed Tackett."

He began to roll up his shirt sleeves as he glared at the suspect.

"Your mother must be so proud."

Picking up the file with the pictures in it, Colby walked around behind Tackett, allowing his elbow to brush against the back of the man's head. He couldn't resist a smile of self-righteous satisfaction as he heard the man's sudden intake of breath at the unexpected contact.

As he circled the table, Colby took a picture out of the file folder. Looking it over, he tossed it in front of Edward Tackett and watched as the man recoiled ever so slightly from the image in front of him.

"His name was Donald Bastain."

Colby looked at the picture again and felt his stomach turn. Yet, he hid his own discomfort from the suspect as he said, "Yeah, that's gonna be a closed casket service."

Tackett swallowed hard, but didn't speak, so Colby threw another photograph down. "Margaret Eyeth"

The person in the photo had no face. In fact, the body was barely even recognizable as a woman.

"She worked as personal secretary for United States District Attorney, Howard Meeks."

Colby saw the suspects eyes flit toward the two-way glass. Anyone who'd ever seen a procedural drama on network television knew there was someone in there watching, and Edward seemed to take some comfort from that. Strutting over to the window, Colby violently jerked the cord that held the blinds in place and allowed them to drop noisily onto the window frame. The camera, in the corner of the room above the door, would still allow the Assistant Director an adequate view of the interrogation.

Spinning around, Colby walked back over to the table where he picked up three more pictures and tossed them casually in front of the suspect.

"Michael Palmateer, ADA."

Each picture was more gruesome than the last, and Colby pointed out the next image.

"Joanne Foster, clerk."

Tackett looked up at him, stuttering as he finally broke his silence.

"Th…these are pictures from the bombing. Why are you showing me these?"

Without answering his question, Colby jabbed his finger at the third photograph.

"This was Beverly Kirkpatrick…."

As Tackett looked down at the picture, Colby pushed it closer, barely suppressing his own grimace at the grisly image.

"They're still looking for the rest of her."

The image of was more than Tackett could stand and he clamped his eyes shut and turned his head away. "I had nothing to do with this!"

Colby remained silent, waiting until Tackett looked back at him to hold up one last picture. The woman in the photo was obviously deceased, her dark hair mussed, blood caked to her face. The picture wasn't nearly as horrific as the rest of them and Tackett leaned forward to get a better look.

"This is Assistant United States Attorney, Robin Brooks. She had a lot of friends in this office. I was one of them."

Suddenly realizing what he was being accused of, Tackett pushed his chair back away from the table, physically distancing himself from both Colby and the photographs.

"I told you, I don't know anything about that! I had nothing to do with that bombing!"

Colby never raised his voice, but the look on this face was deadly enough to make the man swallow reflexively.

"You really should have though of that before you agreed to work for the Valdario Cartel."

Tackett's eyes widened, genuine fear materializing across his pale face.

"The Va..Valdario Cartel? I don't…I wouldn't…."

Either the man deserved an Oscar, or he had no idea that the famous drug syndicate and their jailed leader was behind the job he had been hired to do. Nevertheless, someone had contacted him… someone had hired him and Colby was going to squeeze every bit of information he could out of this scumbag.

Seeing Adam Burdick hit the ground and bounce like a rubber ball had almost been more than Colby had been able to stand. He had developed a deep respect for Charlie over the years, and the way he had handled the last four months had only served to deepen that respect. This man had personally attacked the Eppes family, and he was going to find out who had paid him to do it.

"Oh, come on!"

Colby pulled out the chair opposite the suspect and sat down, leaning back confidently as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You really expect me to believe that you didn't know that you were kidnapping the nephew of the lead witness in the federal case against Miguel Valdario?"

Tackett's jaw dropped and he began to shake his head in denial as Colby continued. "Look, I'm gonna bottom line this for you. You were just caught in the commission of a class A felony. You're looking at a mandatory prison sentence. Then there's the conspiracy charge to consider…. and ransoming a child to prevent the testimony of a federal witness."

Putting his feet back on the floor, Colby leaned across the table.

"You're also going to be charged as an accomplice in a long running federal investigation against the Valdario Cartel. The bombing has already been linked to another one of Valdario's stooges. By the time we put all the pieces together, I'm fairly confident that we can get you a nice cozy seat next to the big guy on death row."

"No! You have it all wrong! You can't pin that on me!"

Tackett shook his head adamantly, but the uncertainty in his eyes was all Colby needed to see.

"Do you see these two boxes, Ed? There are many more out there. That is all of the evidence we have on Valdario and his operations. _You_ are a verified accomplice. That means all of this..." he emphasized, swinging his arm in an arch toward the boxes, like Vanna White on steroids "... we get to put on you. That is how it works, pal. You accepted a job from Valdario, a job that directly connects you to this case. Your biggest mistake, my friend, was getting caught."

Colby pulled out the FBI badge and wallet ID that Tackett had been carrying and threw it at him so that he had no choice but to catch it.

"You can't deny your role in this. That's your picture right?"

Tackett looked at the photo ID, but didn't respond and Colby grabbed it out of his hand and read the name printed under the photo.

"'Agent Eppes', huh? Where'd you get that name?"

Again, he failed to respond. Realizing that the next statement the suspect made would likely be to evoke his right to an attorney, Colby continued.

"You were impersonating the identity of the star federal witness in this case. That is undeniable proof that links you directly to the Valdario Cartel. Do you think that there is a judge, a jury…. hell, even a lawyer anywhere in LA County who would believe that you had no idea what you'd gotten yourself into?"

Colby pulled himself to his feet, and began to gather up the pictures that he had strewn across the table.

"The cartel didn't hire me. I had no idea! I swear."

Colby raised his eyebrows in distain as he closed the file folder and turned toward the door. Tackett hastily continued, fueled by a panicked desperation.

"I was just supposed to walk in, flash the badge and take the kid. Once Belt grabbed the professor, we were supposed to meet at the Southside Pier where he was gonna to turn them both over to someone else and get paid. That's all I know.

Colby felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water directly in his face. He whirled on Tackett and grabbed him by the throat, knocking the chair out from under him as he lifted the man to his feet and pushed him up against the wall.

"Who is Belt? When was he going to _'grab'_ the professor?"

Tackett gasped for air and Colby loosened his grip on the man's larynx.

"Talk fast."

Behind the two-way glass, Merrick immediately opened his phone and dialed Burrows number. After one shortened ring, it went directly to voicemail. Cursing under his breath, he called Greer and got the same thing.

Tackett wasn't exactly a small man, but Granger was still holding him forcefully against the wall as he breathlessly began to elucidate what he knew.

"Belt hired me. With his rep, I couldn't' turn him down! Belt was gonna trank him... When he came out the back, Belt said he'd be alone."

"How did he know?"

"He'd been watching. Someone hired him about three weeks ago to keep an eye on the professor."

Jabbing his left elbow into Tackett's collarbone, Colby lifted the man up off the ground.

"WHO?! GIVE ME A NAME!"

"I don't know! I never talked to anybody!"

Tackett shuddered, and took a deep breath.

"Listen, you gotta believe me. Belt took care of all the arrangements. But he said he couldn't fail. He said they'd kill him. They'd kill us both."

Lowering the man back to the ground, Colby stared intently into his eyes.

"Tell me where I can find him."

"I don't…. I don't know."

Resisting the urge to start pounding the man's skull with his fists, Colby took a step back.

"Then tell me what you do know."

"He…. he'll kill me."

Widening his eyes, Colby menacingly tilted his head. He didn't have to voice the fact that Belt wasn't the only man Tackett needed to be afraid of right now.

"He was there...…. when you arrested me, I saw him in the crowd. He was driving a white utility van."

Merrick had just dialed Megan and was relieved to hear her pick up on the second ring. As he began to tell her what he had just learned, Colby turned away from the suspect and bolted out of the interrogation room. Stepping into the hall, Merrick raised his hand, stopping Granger before he could pass him.

"Greer and Burrows aren't answering their cells. Get over to that hospital. I'm sending a TAC team with Granger."

_**9999999999999999999999999999**_

Thomas Belt drove slowly past the hospital's emergency entrance, verifying that the ambulance parked off to the side of the loading bay was the same one that had carried Professor Eppes and the child. He could see the EMT's who had been at the campus cleaning out the back of the ambulance, as well as the license plate, which he had made note of before it had pulled away. He pulled around to the west side of the building, parking off to the right of an old loading dock. On the far right side of the alcove, there was a steel door, pocked with rust, which led to the basement steam tunnels that he knew ran underneath the main portion of the older sections of the hospital.

Huntington Memorial Hospital was one of the oldest health care facilities in Los Angeles County and luckily for Thomas, he was somewhat familiar with the building. He had been down these steam tunnels many years ago when one of his targets had nearly evaded him by running through the labyrinth of passages that ran under the building.

Carefully taking note of his surrounding, Thomas checked all of his windows and mirrors to be sure that no one was in sight. Confident that he was not being observed, he got out of the van and stepped up onto the loading dock. Checking the rusty door, he wasn't surprised to find it locked. It was a standard exit door, opening only from the inside, and as such, it would serve his purposes. Heading back to his van, Thomas pulled out his Beretta. He checked the clip and silencer one more time before he tucked it into the back of his pants. Pulling his shirt down carefully over the butt of the weapon, he donned a loose jacket before making his way to the front of the hospital.

Putting on an air of confidence, he walked purposefully through the front door and across the main lobby, nodding respectfully to the two elderly women who were sitting behind the information desk. Finding the emergency department wasn't going to be difficult, but first he needed to find a locker room. It took him only a few minutes of looking to find the men's Surgical/OR locker room and he quickly slipped inside the door. His hand automatically went to the hilt of his gun as he closed the door behind him, hoping that no one would be inside. He had no qualms about disposing of anyone who got in his way, but a needless body count was never a good idea when improvising.

Sighing with relief when he found the room empty, he quickly began searching the lockers until he found what he was looking for. He grabbed a set of cerulean blue scrubs from the laundry cart along the back wall of the locker room and quickly pulled them on over his clothes. Opening up the first locker in the row, he was pleased to find an oversized warmer jacket hanging on the hook. Still clipped onto the pocket was an ID tag for a Martin Renfro. Donning the jacket, Thomas glanced down at the ID. He looked nothing like the face pictured there, but it would have to do. Glancing around the room, he spotted a small wooden pegboard on the wall next to the back door, which led to the operating suites. Radiation badges were hanging from the small metal hooks that were scattered across the board, and he quickly found the one that matched the name tag he was wearing. He carefully clipped it onto the name tag, so that it was covering the picture on the badge. Removing the Beretta from the back of his pants, Thomas quickly dropped it into the jacket's lower pocket, closing the front snaps so the weight of the weapon wouldn't allow the jacket flaps to move around too much.

The OR locker rooms were just down the hall from the hospital's inside entrance to the emergency department. Secure in his semblance to a hospital employee, Thomas strode out of the locker room and walked directly up to the entryway. Pushing the silver button that would open the double doors, he stood back and waited for them to unlatch.

As the doors spread open, Thomas' eyes took in every detail of the scene before him. The department was teeming with activity. An ambulance had just arrived, and nurses and doctors were jogging up to the ambulance bay, waiting for a critical patient to be unloaded. Up against the wall, just inside the doors, were several wheelchairs sitting side by side. As a plan formulated in his mind, Thomas headed down the hallway toward the private examination rooms. With everyone in the department focused on their tasks, he should have no problem walking the corridors until he found his target.

His search was cut short when he rounded the first corner. A nurse was leading a large man toward one of the back rooms, and Thomas immediately recognized him as Agent Greer. He continued walking toward the room, following them until they were inside. Then, he quickly ducked behind one of the curtained examination areas, trying to decide what steps to take.

He'd outsmarted the FBI before, hitting two targets in Washington right under the noses of the federal agents who were supposed to be protecting them. It was no different now. In Washington, he knew that the FBI agents protecting their witnesses had observed him. But, with a minor alteration like wearing a billed ball cap pulled low over his eyes, he was able to mask his appearance while blending in perfectly to his surroundings. He knew that over the past several weeks he had been essentially invisible to the ever-vigilant eyes of the FBI agents in the protection detail, while he conducted his own surveillance. If, by some slim chance, one of them did recognize him - there were ways to deal with that as well.

The nurse left the room moments later, but before he could make any move, he heard another light rap on the door. Though the curtain, he overheard the doctor introduce himself as a pediatric emergency physician before the door closed again. Less than five minutes later, the doctor opened the door again to leave, and Thomas heard him tell the agents that he would be sending someone to take the baby down to radiology for a CT scan.

Smiling to himself, Belt waited until the doctor rounded the corner and was out of sight. Then, he quickly made his way back to the doors that led into the main hospital corridor and grabbed a wheelchairTaking his time he pushed the chair back through the busy emergency room and down the hall toward the enclosed treatment rooms.

Taking a deep breath, Thomas lowered his head and exhaled slowly. Then, he rapped lightly on the door and turned the handle, pushing it open.

"Hello. I'm here to take Adam Burdick down to the x-ray department."

Charlie looked up at the man and smiled in spite of his surprise.

"That was quick."

Belt reached over for some hand sanitizer and rubbed it into his hands as he spoke, tactically ignoring the agents in the room.

"They make Peds cases a priority around here. X-ray is pretty jammed up, but they said if I could get you down there right away they could get that CT scan out of the way."

Charlie nodded in compliance as Belt continued talking.

"You can just keep holding the baby, but hospital rules say you have to ride in the chair on the way over."

Burrows and Greer both stepped forward and Belt turned toward them. "They will be gone for about forty minutes or so. You two gentlemen can have a seat in the waiting room if you'd like."

Burrows pulled out his badge and said in a voice that broached no argument, "I will be accompanying Doctor Eppes to the X-Ray department."

For a moment, Belt felt like he'd been exposed and if he had hesitated, he very well might have been. But one of the reasons why he was so good at what he did for a living was his ability to think on his feet. He donned a confused expression at the mention of the name Eppes and said, "Doctor Eppes? Who's that? I'm here to pick up Adam Burdick. I'm sorry; do I have the wrong room? May I see the name band on the baby?"

Charlie, accustomed to this sort of confusion, lifted Adam's arm to show the orderly the name on the band as he explained.

"This _is_ Adam Burdick and my name is Charles Eppes. I am his legal guardian."

Burrows stepped closer to Charlie and the wheelchair, still holding out his badge, and said, "And _I_ am _his_ guardian."

Belt kept in character, looking closely at the FBI badge before shrugging his shoulders placidly. "Whatever. But, I'm betting they won't let you go into the room with the patient."

The agent looked ready to argue and Belt grinned. "Hey...you can work that out with Radiology. I'm just supposed to take you there." Turning the chair toward Charlie, he locked the breaks and motioned for the professor to sit down.

While the orderly was helping Charlie lower himself into the chair without jarring the sleeping baby, Greer glanced up at the clock on the wall. "I'll stay here and brief Sinclair when he arrives."

Charlie looked up at that comment. "David's coming here?"

"Yeah. He's bringing your car." With a sardonic smile, Greer moved to open the door, holding it open so they could pull the chair out into the hall. "The baby's gonna have to be strapped into a car seat to go home and we don't exactly have one of those?"

Charlie returned the smile as the wheelchair was turned around. "No, I guess you wouldn't."

Glancing over his shoulder as the orderly pushed the chair toward the elevator, Charlie let his smile fade and he turned to look up at Agent Burrows. "Don is coming too, right?"

"Yep."

Seeing the concern in the young professor's eyes, Burrows patted him on the shoulder consolingly. "Don't worry, Doctor Eppes. We've got everything under control."

_**----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

_**TBC**_


	23. The Wicked Are Sure of Their Wages

_An uncharacteristically long A/N from dHALL: _

_My friends, first, I want to thank you for your patience. I have been experiencing a myriad of issues that have rendered me unable to focus on anything beyond reality. And what a reality it has become. For the past two months, I've felt like a guest star on an episode of 'HOUSE'. The answers have been slow to come, but I think we've finally settled on Multiple Sclerosis. If you know very much about this disease, you know that there still aren't many answers in that diagnosis. But it could be worse, right? I haven't been able to feel my feet in two months...but at least they are still there and chances are, the feeling will come back. _

_So – please continue to be patient as a newly developing bout of optic neurosis is making this whole computer thing a wee bit difficult. These stories have become my out….my own personal therapy, if you will. And, I'm always writing in my head..._

_My super-duper writing partner, Alice, is outlining future chapters and we will continue to write and post as often as possible! _

_Enjoy the (very long) chapter! Be forewarned, the endangerment of a child warning continues through this chapter._

_Additional A/N from Alice I – The appalling revelations of the season three finale will not affect our story in any way. _

_We have done our best to adhere to cannon as closely as possible. However, since 'Child of My Heart' began before the season premiere, we are going to continue to ignore the major, character altering events that have taken place in the course of this season. _

_In other words, we will continue to portray Colby Granger as the good man that all true fans know him to be._

_1_

_1_

**Chapter Twenty Three: The Wicked are Sure of their Wages**

_Heaven never defaults. The wicked are sure of their wages, sooner or later.  
- __Edwin Hubbell Chapin_

Megan and Don left Alan pacing and worried, but resigned to stay at the house and wait for the FBI to bring Charlie home from the hospital. When Don told him of the kidnapping attempt and Adam's fall, he could see the fear for the child written in his father's eyes. But, as he went on to clarify that the cartel was responsible and that they knew not only who he was, but where they lived and where Charlie worked, he watched the color drain from Alan's face.

It had been more than a year since two goons from the Russian Mob had shown up in Charlie's classroom, leaving him shaken but unharmed. They had also dropped by the house, leaving a cigarette butt in the garage just to let him know that they had been there. The resulting intrusion of federal agents and protection units in and around the house had left Alan frustrated, and angry with Don for allowing Charlie to participate in an investigation that would put him on a hit list. It had turned out that the involvement of Don and his family was only a diversionary tactic.

This time, however, it was far more than that. Now he'd managed to do it again, putting Charlie and Adam in a very real, very grave danger. Don was certain his father would have something dogmatic and profoundly critical to say about the matter, just as he had last time. But, much to his surprise, Alan remained silent and somber. His only comment was to ask Megan if she thought it was wise for Don to leave the house again. After assuring his father that every precaution was being taken to keep all of them safe, he and Megan headed downtown.

Don knew his father was well aware that if this kidnapping had been successful, in all likelihood, they never would have seen Adam again. After everything Charlie had been through, that would have been the final shove that would almost certainly have sent him over the edge of sanity. As it stood now, _almost_ losing Adam appeared to have had a cathartic effect on the young man. He had been in a state of emotional shock, and from what Don had heard him saying, he had realized quite suddenly just how much baby Adam truly meant to him.

A loss like that would have been more than any of them could have dealt with, but it would have killed Charlie and the very thought of his brother having to endure such trauma and tragedy made Don's blood run cold. The fact that it would have been _his_ fault for coming home, and exposing them all to this danger, was something Don knew Charlie would never have been able to forgive him for. As it stood now, he wasn't entirely certain he would be able to forgive himself.

As they drove in silence toward the Federal building, Don considered the fact that AD Merrick wasn't going to let him anywhere near the man who had just tried to abduct Adam. Colby was questioning him, and there was no better man for the job. Nevertheless, the more Don thought about it, the more he wanted to be a part of that interrogation. Putting the case against Valdario aside, that man had almost cost him everything and one way or another, he wanted to see him suffer for that.

They had just pulled out onto the four-lane when Megan's cell phone chirped loudly, drawing him out of his thoughts. She paled as she listened to the voice on the other end of the line. Then, without warning, she slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel hard to the left. As the vehicles around them swerved and honked their horns, she accelerated again, crossing the median at full speed.

"Reeves?"

Megan turned on the emergency lights and siren as she pulled the SUV up onto the interstate, heading back in the opposite direction. Skillfully dodging through traffic, she gave Don a quick glance.

"There was a second man on campus. He was supposed to take Charlie. Granger thinks he may have followed the ambulance."

Don felt his stomach constrict painfully as a deep current of fear ran through him. "What? What are you saying?"

"The kidnapper said he saw the guy in the crowd when the ambulance was leaving… a man named Belt. He was driving a white utility van. Don, they can't reach Greer or Burrows. Call David. He should be there by now."

As Don manically dug his own phone out of his pocket, Megan continued to tell him what had just been conveyed to her. "Merrick is sending a TAC team with Granger. He's pretty confident this guy is going to try again. If David is there, he needs to find that van."

Quickly dialing David's number, Don was relieved to hear the phone answered on the first ring. After instructing the agent to search the hospital perimeter for a white utility van, he stayed on the line while David drove Charlie's car around the parking area. They were less than one block away when David announced that he had found the vehicle parked near an old loading dock.

"The engine is still warm, Don. He hasn't been here long."

"Can you follow him in?"

"There's only one door back here. Exit only. I've got Charlie's car parked right behind the van. If they make it this far, he won't be able to pull out."

"Good. That's good." Fighting to keep his panic at bay, Don took a deep breath, and then exhaled as he spoke. "David, get over to the emergency entrance. We'll be right behind you."

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Belt wheeled Charlie and Adam along the corridor, past the OR locker room he had changed in and to the elevators, with Burrows following closely behind. When they arrived at the bank of elevators, the hallway had very few people in it. But, it was obvious that one woman, with a small girl holding her hand, had every intention of getting on the elevator with them. Belt hoped that she would tire of waiting and move along, but she continued to hold her daughter's hand tightly as the door to the car opened before them. Belt made a job of turning the wheelchair around so that he could back in, cutting the woman off from squeezing on in front of them. Suddenly, he had an inspiration.

"So, Agent, is that a real gun you have, or is it just for show?" he asked, in a loud voice.

The woman's eyes flew open wide, moving automatically to the waist of the man standing directly in front of her. She turned on her heel and moved off toward the stairs just beyond the bank of elevators, casting nervous glances behind her, practically dragging her now very curious child in tow. Burrows looked at the orderly as if he were completely out of his mind and hissed in a tight voice, "You wanna find out? Shut your face and do your damn job."

As the elevator doors closed in front of them, Belt cast his eyes at the agent. "Sorry."

Leaning over toward Charlie, he grinned. "Your friend here needs to loosen up." Using the back of the wheelchair as cover, he slipped the gun with it's silencer out of the inside pocket of the warmer jacket. Without any warning, he straightened up and turned, firing two shots as he moved. The bullets slammed into Agent Burrows' chest, throwing him back against the rear corner of the elevator. Charlie spun his head around as Burrows slid down along the side of the car, leaving a smear of blood on the wall, and then landing with his head nearly touching the closed doors.

Before Charlie could react, Belt shoved the barrel of the gun into the back of his neck, burning him with the hot muzzle of the silencer and said in a deadly voice, "If you and the kid want to live through the day, you had better shut up and do exactly what I say. Is that perfectly clear?"

Shocked by the sudden turn of events, and momentarily paralyzed with fear, Charlie didn't respond. Grinding the muzzle of the gun harder into his neck, Belt leaned over until his mouth was next to Charlie's ear. "I said, 'IS THAT CLEAR?"

Adam jerked at the verbal explosion and Charlie pulled the baby's small body close to his chest, as he nodded mutely. The baby stirred in his arms and reached a hand up to grab a lock of hair, but kept his eyes closed. Belt stepped to the side of the chair pushing the button for the basement, and they began to descend.

Still trying to comprehend exactly what had just happened, Charlie slowly turned his eyes toward the agent lying on the floor. He could see Burrows' weapon, holstered at his waist, peeking out from his open jacket. Blood was rapidly pooling around the body, and the sight of it sent Charlie's world spinning. Closing his eyes, he fought to breathe through the dizziness that had suddenly inundated him, as his mind struggled to clarify the meaning of his current situation. This man worked for Valdario and he knew that as a fact. Opening his eyes, Charlie's gaze moved to the baby resting in his arms and he knew that if this man got them out of the hospital, then neither one of them would live to see their family again.

As the doors to the elevator opened, Charlie did the only thing he could do. Planting his feet firmly on the floor, and still feeling the hot muzzle of the gun against his neck, he lurched his body sideways. Pushing back hard with the chair, he drove his abductor into the rear wall of the elevator. As he moved, a muffled 'whump' sounded from behind him as Belt fired his gun. The bullet grazed the left side of Charlie's neck and he caught his right ankle on the footrest. With a grunt of pain, he fell heavily forward, landing on top of Agent Burrows, which elicited a groan from the dying man.

The warm sticky blood was everywhere and the coppery smell of the crimson pool made Charlie's stomach roll. Adam woke with a start as his body was crushed between the two men and he bellowed in a loud, grating wail. Frantically trying to get his weight off of the baby, Charlie tried to push himself up onto his knees, but he slipped in the pool of blood. Falling onto his side to avoid any further trauma to Adam, Charlie came down directly on the holstered gun. Feeling the cold steel through his blood soaked shirt, Charlie made a grab for the rubberized grip on the weapon. Drawing it from the holster with his right hand, Charlie managed to keep his left arm around Adam as he scrambled to his feet.

Belt recovered quickly, and before Charlie could turn around, he grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and pushed it forward with savage force; clipping Charlie behind the knees and making them buckle. As the young man fell back, landing in the seat, Belt didn't stop moving. He continued to drive the chair forward, smashing it and its occupants into the wall opposite the open elevator door.

As Charlie's was propelled forward into the wall and then backward from that impact, Belt slammed the butt of the gun into the side of his head. The force of the blow snapped his neck to the right and blood began to trickle down the left side of his face from a laceration along his temple.

Agent Burrows could hear the baby's screams, as he slowly tried to bring his world back into focus. Feeling for his gun, he realized that his hip holster was empty and he forced his body around, reaching to his leg holster for his backup piece. Looking up from his prone position, he saw the orderly begin to pistol-whip Dr. Eppes. Lifting his weapon, as his vision swam in and out of focus; Burrows prayed the he would not accidentally hit the professor. Knowing he only had seconds before he would be unable to support the weight of the small .38 caliber revolver, Burrows held his breath and fired.

The bullet missed Belt, but only by a hair and as it penetrated the wall, it caused bits of plywood to fly into the side of interloper's face at high velocity. With a cry of pain, Belt spun toward the source of the shot and carefully aimed his Beretta, firing a single bullet into the agent's head. As the agent dropped, lifeless, to the floor of the elevator, a satisfied smile spread over Belt's injured face. Then, he reached into the elevator panel and pulled the red hold button that would keep the car down in the basement.

Somehow, Charlie had managed to keep hold of the now frantic baby, Agent Burrows' gun, and his consciousness. Hiding the gun underneath Adam's body, he clutched the child closer to his chest. The calm and analytical part of his brain marveled at the fact that he had taken the FBI agent's gun without his abductor knowing about it. In spite of his panic, he knew that he needed to keep it that way as long as possible. This man was a professional. He had just killed a well-trained federal agent and there was no way a mathematics professor with a minimal amount of physical self-defense training was going to be able to catch him off guard. Still, as nominal has it had been, he was now immensely grateful that Don had insisted he take a basic civilian self-defense course. And as long as this kidnapper didn't know that he had the gun, he might still be able to get them out of this.

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As they pulled up to the ambulance bay, Don caught sight of David as he rounded the corner, heading for the ER's main doors. Before Megan even brought the vehicle to a complete stop, Don had jumped from the SUV, running full tilt for the entrance. A uniformed security guard put out his hand to stop Don, but David shouted out, "FBI." Pulling his badge, which he flashed at the guard, he and Don ran for the nurses' desk. As Megan followed them through the doors, the guard looked past her to the black SUV parked in the ambulance bay.

"You can't leave that there."

Pulling back her jacket to reveal her badge, which was clipped onto her belt, Megan handed the guard her key ring.

"Then move it."

"What's going on out here?" The ER charge nurse that Burrows had referred to as Nurse Rached, flew out from behind the desk at the sight of more armed FBI agents running into her emergency room. She looked prepared to take on the whole team and when Don thrust his torso over the countertop to push the buzzer that would allow them through the doors and into the treatment area, Megan thought the woman was going to launch an all-out assault. "What the hell are you doing? YOU CAN'T GO IN THERE!"

"We're with the FBI, ma'am."

Megan's announcement only served to irritate the woman further and she turned as Don and David ran past her, through the opening doors and down the hallway. "I don't care if you're with the CIA, NSA or PTA! This is a hospital!"

Ignoring the sarcasm, Megan pulled her badge off her belt and held it out for the nurse to examine.

"Where is the baby who was just brought in?"

Glancing at the guard, who was still standing flabbergasted in the middle of the lobby, the nurse turned and walked through the doors that Don had opened.

"This way."

The urgency of their entrance was not lost on the woman, and she led them down the hallway at a fast-paced march. Reaching the treatment room where Charlie was supposed to be, she turned to shoot a resentful glare at the three agents before she swung open the door. As she turned into the room, prepared to grudgingly give them access to the patient they were looking for, she came face to face with a very startled Agent Greer.

"Where are Doctor Eppes and the baby?" She never gave Greer a chance to answer before she turned back to the three agents behind her, frustration and no small amount of annoyance in her voice. "They are supposed to be here. You people seem to think that you can come in here and do whatever the hell you want simply because you carry around guns and badges. Well, this is just not going to happen in _my_ ER. Now if that young man hasn't got sense enough..."

"Whoa!" Agent Greer took a step forward as he looked past the head nurse at Don, Megan and David. "Charlie and the baby were taken down to x-ray. They left just a few minutes ago with Burrows and the guy from radiology."

Seeing the panicked expression on Don's face when he said this, Greer moved his hand toward his holstered side arm.

"What is it? What's happened?"

"X-ray!"

Before the senior agent could answer, the nurse turned around and put her hands on her hips. "They can't have gone to x-ray. I haven't had time to put the orders into the computer yet! Are you sure?"

The disagreeable woman obviously didn't grasp what this meant and Don grabbed her by the arms and spun her around to face him. "Which way would they have gone?"

The intensity in Don's eyes actually wiped the irritation off her face and she looked up at him, alarmed. "Through the doors at the end of this hall, to the right."

Releasing her arms, Don turned and ran down the hall, followed by the other three agents. They went through the doors and wound their way through the main corridor until they reached a bank of elevators. Looking up at the lights over the doors, Don could see that all of the cars were in motion but one. Feeling a frenetic dread rising in his chest, Don turned to Megan.

"Which way?"

She didn't even have a chance to answer, when they heard a shot ring out. It seemed to be coming from the elevator shaft on the far right. It was the car that wasn't moving and was stopped on the basement floor. Megan pulled her gun from its holster, causing the people in the corridor waiting for elevators to gasp and move back against the wall.

"I'd say the basement."

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Charlie was wavering precariously in the chair, obviously dizzy from the blow to his head. Belt didn't have the time to try to make him walk. He knew that the sound of Burrows' gun shot would have echoed up the elevator shaft and by now hospital security would have been alerted. Grabbing the handles of the chair, he began to jog down the corridor away from the elevators, to the first turn that led into the winding steam tunnels under the old hospital.

Charlie focused on Adam, who was bellowing at the top of his lungs and the dizziness began to diminish. The man pushing the wheelchair was going so fast, when he tried to round another corner to start working his way back toward the west side of the structure, the chair nearly tipped over to the left. Without making a conscious decision to do so, Charlie used the momentum and pitched forward. He got one foot on the ground, but the man behind him grabbed a handful of hair and yanked so hard that Charlie fell heavily back into the chair.

Coming to a stop, his abductor jerked his head back and hissed through clenched teeth. "I swear to you if you try anything else stupid, I'll kill the baby first!"

To drive his point home, he put the barrel of the silencer up to Adam's head. The muzzle was still hot from the last shot fired and Charlie could hear the cowlick on the back of the baby's head singe, as the scalding steel came into contact with his sweaty hair. When the barrel touched his skin, Adam screamed.

Terrified, Charlie did the only thing he could think of to do in that instant. With an astonishing force, he tore his head forward, leaving a handful of curly black hair clutched firmly in the man's hand. Leaning over Adam, covering him with his own body, Charlie began to plead with their abductor over the sound of Adam's screams.

"NO! Please! Don't; I'll do whatever you want, please! He's just a baby! Please!"

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Don was the first one through the door next to the elevators and as he turned, he saw Burrows lying in the car with a pool of blood underneath him and a bullet hole between his eyes; a gun still clutched in his hand. In spite of the fact that Burrows was obviously dead, Don knelt down next to the open door and checked the man's neck for a pulse. As the others clamored out of the stairwell and came to a stop, Greer pushed past David. Lifting his eyes from the body of his partner, he cast a silent question at Don. Rising to his feet, the senior agent shook his head and clasped Agent Greer by the shoulder. "He's gone, man. There's nothing we can do."

Suddenly, Megan turned her head and shouted, "Listen!"

They could hear Adam screaming, and without giving orders or waiting for them, four pair of feet began moving. Don was in the lead when they rounded the first turn in the corridor that led into the tunnels. The cries were echoing off the walls and they stopped for a moment, contemplating which direction they should go in. Then, Don heard his brother's voice and it ripped a hole in his heart to hear Charlie pleading with his attacker. The terror in Charlie's voice was unlike anything Don had ever heard before and it sent an electric current of fear down his spine.

Megan grabbed Don's arm with her right hand, then threw up her left, pointing at David and Greer. In a husky voice, she ordered, "Take the two tunnels on the left; Don and I will take the right."

With a nod to acknowledge the command of the ranking SAC, David and Greer disappeared down the other two passageways trying to follow the echoing sounds of the baby's cries. Don took off at a dead run down the right passageway, with Megan close behind.

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Belt began to push the wheelchair, rushing his cargo down the corridor. It had been a few years since he had been down in these tunnels. And, although he prided himself in his astutely accurate memory, he was having trouble recalling which passage would take him to the exit where he had parked the van. An unfamiliar sensation of panic was beginning to undermine his confidence and it was even harder to think over the screaming of the baby.

"Shut that kid up!"

As if in answer, Adam paused to draw in a deep a breath and began to bellow even louder.

"Shut him up, or I'll do it for you."

The kidnapper didn't raise his voice to be heard over the baby, but he didn't have to. Charlie could tell from his tone that he meant it. There was a left turn up ahead about ten yards and Belt headed for it, quickly pushing the chair along. When he rounded the corner at full speed, a concrete wall loomed in front of them.

"DAMN IT!"

The man's curse echoed through the passageway and Charlie lifted his head, ceasing his efforts to quite Adam's cries. They had run into a dead end tunnel. He felt his abductor trying to slow the wheelchair, and turn it at the same time and Charlie made an instant deduction. They were going to die. If he didn't do _something_, they were both going to die

Mustering his courage, Charlie pulled the gun out from underneath Adam's body. With their forward momentum propelling him, he hurled himself forward out of the wheelchair, landing hard on his knees. The impact with the cement floor sent a shockwave through his body, causing Adam to scream even harder. Blocking the sound from his mind, Charlie twisted his torso around, as he extended the gun he was holding toward their attacker. The look of disbelief on the man's face morphed from surprise, to fear, and then to malicious relief in a split second, when Charlie pulled the trigger and nothing happened.

He was applying adequate pressure, but for some reason the gun would not fire. Turning the weapon in his hand, Charlie felt his heart plummet when he saw that the safety was engaged.

Even over Adam's frantic cries, Charlie could hear what the man said to him next.

"I warned you. Say, 'bye bye'."

Belt pointed the gun at them, aiming for the baby in the young man's arms.

"NO!" Reacting without conscious thought, Charlie curled his body around Adam in a protective ball. In spite of Adam's screams, Charlie was sure he could hear Belt pull the hammer back on the weapon and he tightened his grip on the baby, whispering in his ear, "I'm so sorry. Oh, God, I'm so sorry."

The deafening sound of a shot ringing out; echoing through the tunnel, made Charlie flinch violently. For a moment, everything was still except for the persistent wails of the baby. Charlie had squeezed his eyes shut waiting for the impact of the bullet, but he felt nothing except his own body shaking. Hesitant to look down the barrel of the Beretta in the man's hands, but unable to comprehend why he had not just been shot, Charlie opened his eyes and turned his head. The man was still holding the gun, but as Charlie watched, the weapon slipped from his fingers and landed solidly on the concrete at his feet. The man then wavered for a moment with his eyes wide open, before blood began to trickle out of the corner of his mouth. Taking several staggering steps forward, he tripped over the wheelchair and landed in a heap up against Charlie's feet.

Charlie frantically scrambled away from his tormentor; awkwardly keeping Adam under his body until he was stopped by the tunnel wall. Agent Greer came into view then, with his gun raised and pointed at the body of their would-be kidnapper and Charlie suddenly realized what had happened. Turning so that his back was against the wall, he pulled his knees up, holding the hysterical baby between his legs and his chest; his eyes wide as saucers. The sound of running feet could barely be heard over the screams of the distraught child in his arms and even though he was aware of other people arriving, Charlie was unable to take his eyes off the body of the man in front of him.

As he rounded the corner, Don stumbled to a halt. His knees nearly buckled under him as he took in the sight that lay at the end of the short passage. Charlie was leaning up against the wall, blood covering the left side of his neck and thickly caked in his hair. A standard issue service weapon was clutched tightly in his right hand, and his left was holding the squirming body of the eight month old baby in his lap.

It only took Don a second to find his feet, and he ran up to his brother, dropping to the floor beside him. Charlie was shaking so badly, Don was frightened that he had been seriously wounded. This fear was reinforced as he wordlessly pulled Charlie's right arm aside, coaxing the gun out of his hand; and he found that his brother's clothes and Adam's where both covered in blood.

"Where are you hit?"

Charlie was staring at the body on the floor with glazed eyes, seemingly oblivious to anything else. It almost seemed to Don that his brother didn't even know he was there and a nameless fear flooded through him. Moving so that he was directly in Charlie's line of sight, Don placed his hands on the side of his brother's head, prompting him to look up.

"Charlie, Buddy. Talk to me, here. Where are you hit?"

Charlie's eyes swam out of focus for a moment, before he zeroed in on his brother's face. Blinking several times, tears of relief fell from his eyes.

"I..." He shook his head. "I'm not."

Don frowned in confusion as he looked at the blood that seemed to cover his brother from head to toe.

"Whose blood is that?" Even as he said it, Don realized that the blood must have come from Burrows. The elevator floor had been covered in the agent's blood and his primary service weapon, missing from its holster, had been clutched in Charlie's hand. He must have taken it from Burrows when Belt had shot him, although for the life of him, Don could not fathom how he had managed that feat.

Charlie didn't answer the question as he lifted his eyes past Don to where David was leaning over the downed suspect, checking his pulse. When he turned to Agent Greer and shook his head, indicating that the man was dead, Charlie physically shuttered. Stepping over the body, Megan moved up behind Don and spoke over the sound of the screaming baby.

"Are they okay? Don, is Adam okay?"

"I think..."

Adam's cries, although hysterical, were clear, strong and healthy. As he looked more carefully at the baby in Charlie's arms, Don saw the burn mark on the child's scalp, which could only have been caused by the hot muzzle of a gun that had just been fired. He felt his blood go cold, while guilt and rage fought for dominance in his heart.

"He's going to need some attention, but I think he's okay."

Shifting his gaze, trying to figure out what he needed to say to his brother; Don noticed a steady stream of fresh blood running down the side of Charlie's face. Taking in the open gash on Charlie's temple, Don began a more thorough inspection of his brother's injuries. Leaning in to get a closer look, the raised edges of a seeping wound on Charlie's neck, where the bullet had grazed him, caught Don's eye. Automatically, Don put his hand over the wound.

"Charlie, you are hit. We need to get you back up to the emergency department."

If Charlie was able to hear him over Adam's screams, he showed no notice of it. He began to murmur to the baby, trying to calm him down as he patted his back gently. Although he didn't seem mortally wounded, Charlie was obviously in shock and needed medical attention. Don looked up helplessly at his fellow agents.

Megan was trying to reach Colby on her cell phone, but the thick concrete and steel beams that made up the basement walls were blocking the signal. As David stepped away from the man that Agent Greer had shot, Don turned to look over at the body. A pure unadulterated fury washed over him like a tidal wave as he stared at the corpse of the man who had done this. Apparently, he wasn't the only one feeling these emotions. As he watched, Agent Greer hooked his toe under the body and brutally kicked it over, hurling the limp form away from the wheelchair and into the wall.

Don lifted his eyes to the agent, who had just lost his partner, and a moment of silent communication passed between them. Greer and Burrows, two men who were as different as night and day, had been close friends and partners for almost five years. The Los Angeles Bureau had just lost a top notch agent, and in a way, Greer had just lost a brother. With a deep sigh, Greer pulled his eyes away from Don's and flipped the wheelchair upright.

"Come on, I'll help you get him up off the floor."

"I'll get this side." David stepped around Don, grabbing Charlie's right shoulder. "Greer, get his left so Don can keep pressure on that wound."

Megan had given up trying to get a call out to the TAC team, and as she put her phone in her pocket, she moved around to the back of the chair and held it steady. "Should I take the baby?"

Don looked away from his brother and shook his head. "I don't think he'll let you."

Charlie was still shaking, but not nearly as violently and as the young man began to calm down, the baby's distressed cries had also begun to taper off a little.

"One, Two, Three."

On 'three' David and Greer lifted Charlie to his feet, Adam still in his arms, and waited for Megan to maneuver the chair around before they lowered him gently into it.

"There you go."

David paused to gage Charlie for any injuries that Don might have missed. "We're gonna get you two back upstairs, Charlie. It's over man, you're gonna be all right."

As they started to move the chair out of the dead-end corner, Don looked down at Belt's body, then back up at Greer.

"I know he didn't give you any choice, I just wish..."

Before Greer could say anything, Charlie spoke up in a firm voice.

"It was my fault, Don. He told me not to do anything stupid and I did. I took Burrows' gun. I thought I could stop him, but….."

Charlie's cheeks reddened in shame as he continued.

"The gun didn't fire because I left the safety on. He was going to kill us and Agent Greer had to shoot him. It was my fault, Don."

As he listened to Charlie's words, the guilt got the upper hand in the battle within Don's heart. If anyone was at fault here, it was him. He should have followed his instincts. He should have stayed far way from his family and his home until all of this was over. He stepped in front of the wheelchair, and Megan stopped pushing. Kneeling down in front of Charlie, Don wanted to tell him exactly what he was thinking.

Words of reassurance; words that would make Charlie understand why all of this was happening were running through his mind, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was, "It's not your fault."

The adrenalin was still coursing through the young man, and his shoulders continued to tremble slightly as he lifted his eyes to his older brother's face.

"I knew we'd never get out of this alive if he got us out of this hospital. He was going to kill Adam, Don. He told me that he would."

Nodding in understanding, Don met Charlie's eyes, assured to see the conscious, cognitive reasoning that was present there.

"And you did what you had to do to protect him, Charlie. You fought back…you did the right thing."

Looking into his older brother's face, Charlie felt like he was being drawn out of a fog. Everything that had just happened seemed so unreal, almost like it had been a bad movie that he had been forced to watch against his will. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel or think, much less how to express it. All he knew was that he wanted to get the hell out of this hospital and its underground tunnels. In a voice barely loud enough to hear over the baby's intermittent sobs, Charlie whispered, "I want to go home, Donnie."

"You will, Charlie, I promise."

Don's voice cracked as he spoke and Megan leaned over and spoke quietly in Charlie's ear.

"We're going to take you guys upstairs and let the doctor look at you, Charlie. Then we'll get you home, okay?"

Charlie glanced over his shoulder, as if he suddenly realized that the other agents were there. Nodding, he looked down at the baby in his arms. The back of Adam's romper was covered in blood, and the sight of the crimson stain drained whatever color was left in Charlie's face.

"Adam, oh God. Don, was he hit? He couldn't have been."

He began to run his hands up and down over Adam's small body, searching for a wound that would explain the blood, which in turn caused Adam to start to cry even harder. The increased volume of the baby's cries only served to increase Charlie's panic.

"How could he have been hit? I covered him with…..with me!"

"Charlie, stop." Don grabbed his brother's hand firmly and said, "Charlie, it's not his blood."

For the second time, it seemed that Charlie suddenly became overtly aware of everything that had just happened as he looked frantically around him. Then, his hand shot up to the wound in his neck.

"I….I think…..that's a lot of blood."

Charlie's frightened eyes found his brother's and Don spoke in a calm, firm voice. "It's not all yours, Charlie. You're okay now. You're going to be all right."

Waiting until he saw the panic leave his brother's eyes, Don pulled himself to his feet and grabbed Agent Greer by the arm. "Get him out of here and up to the ER. Can you stay with him?"

Greer nodded solemnly and Megan stepped forward, addressing the other agents.

"David, can you go find Colby and get the Evidence Response Team here to go through the van and get this…" she paused for a moment. Their only solid way to link this kidnapping attempt to the Valdario cartel was dead, and so was an agent that she had worked with on several occasions and she was having a hard time containing her emotions. "We need to get Belt's body to the morgue. We also…..we need to take care of Roger."

Just as Megan finished speaking, Colby jogged around the corner with his gun held up. As soon as he took in the scene, he lowered his weapon.

"Oh man."

His eyes opened wide with shock when he saw Charlie as Agent Greer took off, pushing the wheelchair toward the elevators.

Colby stood for a moment looking after them, before he turned to Megan.

"Is he…?"

"He's in shock, Granger, but I think he'll be all right."

Looking down the tunnel that Colby had used, she cocked her head at him. "How'd you get in? I thought that door was locked?"

"It was." Looking down the corridor toward the crumpled body resting against the wall, Colby scowled.

"Is that Belt?"

Megan answered with a doleful smirk. "It was."

"Damn it!"

Don cursed loudly as he leaned up against the concrete wall and ran his hand though his short dark hair.

"How in the HELL did this happen!?"

Turning to Don, Megan could see a smoldering hatred behind his dark eyes. The odium was mixed with something else too, something she could not identify. The expression, or rather the lack of expression on his face was in such sharp contrast to what his eyes held that it made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Don, I think we can take care of things down here. You should get upstairs too."

When Don made no move to leave, nor gave any indication that he had even heard her, Megan found herself very worried. As long as Charlie was here and needed his focus, Don had been keeping himself together. But now, it seemed a shroud had dropped over his friend's countenance and it made him look both desperate and dangerous at the same time.

"Don!"

He slowly looked up into her eyes, pain etched in his face.

"I should never have come home."

Before she could respond to that, Don holstered his gun and stalked off down the corridor back toward the elevators. Megan followed him with her eyes until he was out of sight. Taking two steps after him, she stopped herself. She was the SAC here, and couldn't exactly take off after him at that moment. She had two dead bodies to deal with and a TAC team waiting for instructions. She would have to report to Merrick, and get a new protection detail on Charlie and the baby.

And then, she and Agent Greer would have to go see Karen Burrows. Heaving a deep sigh, Megan turned away from the corridor that would lead out of the basement and headed back down into the tunnels.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Don fully intended to go be with Charlie. But when he exited the stairwell, he instead found himself heading for the door. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was standing in the parking area in front of the emergency room. Megan's SUV had been moved away from the front and it took him a moment to remember that she had given her keys to the security guard.

Turning back toward the door, Don saw that the guard had followed him out into the parking lot. A look of intent concern covered the man's face and Don suddenly realized that his hands and shirt sleeves were stained with blood from where he had touched Charlie.

As the guard glanced over his shoulder, obviously wondering if he needed to call for a doctor, Don said, "Relax it's not mine. Where are the keys?"

The security guard was dumbfounded for a moment, then reached into his pocket and took out the set of keys that Megan had given him, mutely handing them over to the agent.

Glancing back at the front doors to the ER, Don felt his gut twist with guilt and anger. Charlie was in there, bleeding and in shock…..….his brother had been through hell because of him.

This was his fault, but the fault was not something he bore alone. The man behind all of the terror, all of the misery, all of the pain, was sitting safely and smugly in a prison cell. In all likelihood, he had no idea that his plan had failed. But, Don had some bad news for Miguel Valdario and he was going to deliver it personally.

As the rage boiled inside of him, he pulled open the driver's side door and got into the vehicle. Gunning the engine to life, Don peeled out of the circular drive in front of the emergency room and headed for Downtown Los Angeles.

_**TBC**_


	24. To Detest Without Compromise

**Chapter Twenty Four: To Detest Without Compromise**

"_And I tell you this, my friend, that there are people who have no good in them – none. That there are people whom it is necessary to detest without compromise. That there are people who must be dealt with as enemies of the human race._ _That there are people who have no human heart, and who must be crushed like savage beasts and cleared out of the way."_  
_Charles Dickens_

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Stepping into the bright late-afternoon sunlight, Colby Granger squinted at the white van parked near the door that led from the underground tunnels. When he had arrived, the door he had just walked through had been locked, but a few well-placed kicks had loosened the latch and the screws just enough for him to force it open. When he heard the gunshot, he had thrown caution to the wind, running down the corridor, searching for the source of the weapon's discharge, hoping that it was friendly fire. The TAC team also heard the distinctive sound of gunfire and followed him in. Colby gave instructions for them to split up, taking the tunnels in pairs, while he took the last passageway alone.

The tunnel that he had chosen seemed to go on forever and when he heard no more gunshots, Colby expected the worst and had nearly found it. The relief of seeing his colleagues already on the scene was quickly quelled by the sight of Charlie, bleeding and shell-shocked, being wheeled away by Agent Greer. The young man was clinging to his small charge, who was also covered in blood; and given the terrified expression on Charlie's face, he feared that the baby had been mortally wounded.

Megan was quick to assure him that Charlie and the baby were all right, but Colby knew better. The FBI's favorite consultant was not psychologically prepared to deal with situations that included him or that baby being covered in someone else's blood, and they all knew it. The fact that the young mathematician had dealt so well with the tragedy of the Burdick's death, and shouldering the responsibility of caring for his friend's infant, had really surprised Colby. He had always suspected that Charlie was made of tougher stuff than most people gave him credit for, but the man's strength and resolve throughout the past four months had been astonishing. Colby wasn't sure he could do the same thing himself, if the situation called for it. As a matter of fact, he was pretty sure he couldn't.

When Megan had suggested to Don that he should get upstairs, the senior agent took off, presumably heading for the ER where they had taken Charlie. And although Colby knew that Don would want to be close to his brother after an incident like this, something dark and dangerous was visible in his eyes; not unlike the the expression that had materialized when he had faced Ed Tackett in the parking lot at CalSci. This look, however, was bleaker and somehow far more ominous.

When Colby had looked over at the body of the other kidnapper, Belt, he didn't understand where all the blood on Charlie and Adam had come from. The single shot to the man's head was clean. There was blood pooling beside the body and a crimson smear indicated that the corpse had been moved, but it wasn't nearly enough to explain what he had just seen. He turned to David, searching for an explanation and was told that Agent Burrows had been killed.

The knowledge that they had lost a fellow agent hit Colby like a fist in the gut. He hadn't been particularly close to Burrows, but he had worked with him enough to know that the man was a good agent, with a wife and a family waiting for him at home. Perhaps it had something to do with the time he spent in Afghanistan, but losing a brother-in-arms had always had a powerful effect on Colby. The fragility of human life was something he had often witnessed, and something that he had been trained to take advantage of when required. Working for the FBI, he dealt with the effects of death constantly. But losing one of their own brought his own mortality to light, and for Colby that wasn't something he was prepared to confront just yet.

As he pushed his feelings about Agent Burrow's death aside, his thoughts returned to Don and the expression on his face. The senior agent had looked like he was ready to tear someone from limb to limb and Colby couldn't really blame him. After everything that had happened, he wasn't sure how Don had had managed to hold it together for this long. The body count related to this case was rising fast and it was getting more and more personal. The death of USDA Robin Brooks had been a blow to them all, but it had been particularly difficult for Don considering their past relationship. Adding to that, the fact that a good agent had been killed; Colby had a strong urge to head over the detention center and find a way to turn Miguel Valdario into a bloody pulp himself.

So now, as he stood on the loading dock, it came as no real surprise to Colby when he heard the sound of squealing tires coming from the ER parking lot just around the corner. Lifting his hand to shield his eyes from the sun, he saw a familiar black SUV heading for the exit at top speed.

"Damn it, Don."

He turned back to the van and called out to the closest evidence tech, "Hey, if Agent Reeves comes up this way, tell her…." He paused, and then shook his head as he pulled his keys from his pocket.

"Tell her….tell her I'll be right back."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

After removing the clip from his sidearm and ejecting the bullet from the chamber, Walter Merrick handed his pistol to a robust woman behind the counter. Although he had not drawn his handgun in the line of duty in nearly four years, without the customized silver-plated GLOCK resting snugly in his shoulder holster, he felt naked and exposed. Knowing that he was about to walk into a building of federal detainees didn't make him feel any better about surrendering his weapon. The female guard raised her eyebrows knowingly. "Back-up piece?"

Strapping the ankle holster onto his right calf was such a normal part of his daily routine that he seldom gave it a second thought until he undressed in the evenings, and he had honestly forgotten that he was carrying a second gun. Rolling his eyes at Howard Meeks, who had already passed through the medal detectors and was looking at him impatiently, he leaned over and raised his pant leg to remove the small six-shooter from the holster, where it rested above his ankle.

Watching the FBI's Assistant Director as he tugged at the Velcro strap that secured the weapon in its holster, Howard spoke to the guard who was standing with him inside the gate. "Has Valdario's attorney arrived?"

"Yes, Sir, Mister Meeks." The man nodded in affirmation. "He was just escorted back to the interview room."

The woman behind the counter took Merrick's second handgun and handed him back his FBI identification.  
"You can go on through. They're getting your prisoner out of lock-up now."

As he passed through the metal detector without incident, the woman pushed the button to open the gate that led into the hallway. A third guard, who had been waiting at the end of the small vestibule, barked out, "Follow me, please.", as he turned and headed off down the corridor.

The main hallway of the Rice Building, the federal detention center in Los Angles, echoed their footsteps as Walter Merrick tried to keep up with the guard, who appeared to be in a hurry. Realizing Howard Meeks was almost ten feet behind them, he stopped walking to give the man a chance to catch up to him. The guard proceeded ahead to an intersection of the main corridor, then stood by and waited before turning out of sight.

When Merrick had phoned the District Attorney and told him about the kidnapping attempt at Cal-Sci, his doctor had just decided to release the man from the hospital. Merrick had always prided himself on being able to restrain his empathy for others….…it was part of what he thought made him so good at his job. Yet, he couldn't help but feel badly that Meeks had to jump right back into the saddle after he barely survived yesterday's bombing. Putting on a friendly smile, he turned and called out, "What do you think our chances are of getting him to admit to any of this?"

The younger man was limping down the corridor as quickly as he could. The bright white cast on his left arm was nestled snugly in a beige colored sling, but he was still supporting it with his right hand as he walked, openly demonstrating the amount of pain he was in.

"Zero, zilch, nada. No chance whatsoever."

Howard was breathing heavily as he caught up and stopped for a moment, leaning up against the wall.

"Just give me a moment. When you called and explained what almost happened today, I decided to forgo the pain medication. I want a clear head when we talk to Valdario." After taking several deep breaths, and giving Merrick an apologetic look, he continued. "He'll never confess to setting up that kidnapping operation and you've got no evidence to prove otherwise. We might be able to bluff him into thinking that we already have evidence, since the man you have in custody gave up his partner so quickly. If your agents catch up with the second man and you can get him to implicate Valdario or at least someone from the cartel, we might just be able to charge him with something more than conspiracy. Right now though, witness tampering is the least of his worries and I'm fairly certain he'll have nothing to say about any of it."

Merrick started walking again, slower this time, as he headed for the guard, who was waiting for them a little impatiently. The comment had taken some of the wind out of his sails, and even though he was the one who had called Howard to meet him here, he asked, "Then why are you here?"

Putting on a burst of speed to keep up with Merrick, Howard sneered as he answered the question.  
"Do you really have to ask? In case you've forgotten, I'm burying a half a dozen members of my staff tomorrow."

Merrick tired to keep the disparagement out of his voice as he stopped and allowed the other man to pass him. "If you aren't up to this, Meeks…"

Glaring at the federal agent over his shoulder, Howard scoffed loudly. "What? Are you suggesting that I be replaced?"

"It's _not_ unreasonable for you to consider taking a leave of absence at this point." Any feelings of consideration for the government attorney had dissipated, and just as he was about to continue with a sharp retort about how everyone was expendable, the guard lifted his hand toward to the two men.

"Wait here."

The uniformed man let himself though a door of another vestibule, which led into another corridor. He continued on to the first door to the right, presumably to let Valdario's lawyer know that they were there. After several minutes, Merrick broke the silence that the guard had left behind. "Listen, Meeks, the courts will give you an extension to brief a replacement. After what you've been through…."

With a deep sigh, Howard shook his head. "I know. But, I don't need a leave of absence. This is my case and I intend to see it through to completion, and to see Miguel Valdario behind bars for the rest of his life."

Silence filled the hall again. Somewhere, in a nearby section of the detention center, a loud bang rang out as someone slammed a door open and Howard visibly jumped at the sudden noise. In an effort to dismiss his discomfort, he asked, "What else do you know about this second kidnapper? This….."

He paused, searching his memory for the name that Merrick had given him over the phone. But the AD completed the thought for him.

"Belt; the suspect said his accomplice's name was Belt. We believe that he might be headed for the hospital where Doctor Eppes and the baby were taken. I sent a full tactical unit, led by Agent Granger, to intercept. We also know what he's driving and have already issued a BOLO for his vehicle."

"Right." Taking a step forward, Howard leaned his bruised body up against the wall again. "Well, we may not have this Belt character in custody yet, but at least we know he's out there. And there's no way he's going to get to Doctor Eppes, who is surrounded by agents in the middle of a hospital. Have you heard back from your team, yet?"

"No, I left at the same time Agent Granger did to meet you here. I'm sure Agent Reeves will call as soon as they…."

His sentence was interrupted when the cell phone on his left hip began to buzz softly.

"And here we go."

Pulling the phone from its holster, Merrick turned away from the USDA as if that would give him more privacy.

"Talk to me, Reeves."

The man began to pace the width of the hallway as he listened to Megan's voice on the other end of the line.

"And the child?...

How bad?..."

Listening in silence to the one-sided conservation, Howard could tell something had gone very wrong. That suspicion was reinforced when Merrick dropped his head and said, "Have you contacted his wife?"

He turned back around, including Howard in this part of the conversation.

"Yes, I'm at the Rice Building with USDA Meeks…

Of course, I'll meet you there."

Closing his phone, Merrick looked up grimly at the USDA and said, "Change of plans. I have to go tell Karen Burrows that her husband isn't coming home."

"Oh God." Howard lowered his head and ran his hand through his hair. "What about the Eppes'?"

Nodding, Merrick gave him a tight lipped smile. "Agent Eppes is fine. Doctor Eppes was injured, but Agent Reeves thinks it's relatively superficial. The baby was essentially unharmed."

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment, as Howard tried to find a delicate way to inquire as to the condition of the one man who could pin this entire fiasco on Valdario.

"What about…"

The Assistant Director answered the question before he was able to finish asking it.

"Belt was shot and killed."

"Damn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN!"

The volume of his voice increased with each curse and Howard turned toward the wall, trying not to overreact to the news. He knew that the FBI had just lost an agent, but he couldn't help but focus on what this meant to his case against the Valdario cartel. For the crimes they had arrested Miguel Valdario for, they had a very strong case and an excellent chance of getting a conviction. With the bombing, the potential kidnapping charge, _and_ the murder of a federal agent as a result of the kidnapping, the USDA could ask for the death penalty since the murder was carried out on American soil. But without that man, alive and in custody, they would never be able to charge Valdario with the attempted kidnapping of Adam Burdick and Charles Eppes.

"So, I've got nothing."

"Nothing you didn't have this morning when you got up."

With a deep sigh, Howard Meeks turned back toward the door where the guard had disappeared. He still had a solid case and certainly more than enough for a grand jury indictment. He had been hoping that he would be able to get Valdario and his attorney to agree to a life sentence in lieu of the death penalty. A big courtroom victory would be a great boost for his career, but at this point, he would be willing to settle for almost anything that would keep Valdario behind bars. The deaths in the bombing should still be enough to put the death penalty on the table, but the kidnapping would have made it a sure thing.

Merrick turned away and began walking back the way they had come in. Protesting the change of venue, Meeks called out, "Hey, we can at least tell this bastard that his plan failed. He needs to know that he cannot sway the testimony of our witness."

When Merrick didn't respond, Meeks started after him. "Look, I am really sorry about your agent, but we need to finish this. Valdario is on his way down and Ernesto Sebelli is waiting in the interview room."

"I am well aware of that, but I have a widow to speak with." Merrick shot back, as his earlier frustration with Meeks returned.

Howard reached out with his uninjured limb and touched Merrick's arm.  
"I understand how you are feeling. I spoke by telephone to three spouses left behind after yesterday's bombing and if I hadn't been in the hospital, I would have gone to see each of them in person. I don't envy you having the duty of breaking this news to Mrs. Burrows."

Merrick didn't stop, but he slowed down considerably, heaving a deep sigh as he shot a glance over his shoulder. "She'll know the minute she sees us pull into the driveway. I won't have to tell her anything. But, I'm sure as hell not going to make her wait all day to find out."

Nodding his understanding, Howard readjusted the sling on his arm as he continued to follow Merrick down the hall. "The interview with Valdario won't take very long and I believe that your presence will drive home the fact that we are playing for keeps - just like Valdario. Doesn't Agent Burrows' wife deserve to know that the man responsible for her husband's death will be looking at the harshest penalty available for orchestrating the taking of that life?"

Howard knew that this was a low blow, but he wanted a win on this badly enough that he really didn't care what Walter Merrick thought of him personally. If he was looked on as calloused or politically driven, it was worth it if it got him the conviction and sentence that Valdario deserved.

Another loud bang issued from down the hall, but this time they couldn't tell from which direction it was coming. The guard who had led them down to the vestibule leading to the interview rooms had returned, and was listening to the argument between them in silence. It was obvious to him that the pair had not decided on which course of action they were going to take. If the FBI's Assistant Director wanted to leave before he spoke with the prisoner, he wasn't about to try and stop him. Although, the USDA was certainly making an effort to do so, as he hobbled after the older man.

"I know what you're trying to do Meeks, but I…"

Merrick didn't get the chance to finish. As they came to the intersection where they had turned off of the main corridor, he nearly collided with one extremely deadly looking Don Eppes. His shirtfront was stained a dark crimson and his hands, crusted with more dried blood, were clenched tightly into fists.

It took Merrick several seconds before he actually recognized the agent, and before he could react to Don's presence there, another door slammed from the opposite direction. Both men turned toward the sound and suddenly found themselves face to face with Miguel Valdario. The prisoner was adorned in full restraints and flanked by two guards. Meeks was standing back a little and as he watched the cartel boss step out into the hall, between the two federal agents, he felt as though time had stopped.

No one moved or even seemed to breathe as the sheer shock of this chance encounter sunk in to the consciousness of everyone present. Valdario stared into the face of Agent Eppes and his eyes narrowed as he realized whom it was that was standing in front of him. Only seconds had passed, but Meeks was the only one who seemed to recognize that they were teetering on the edge of a disaster. He was about to speak up and suggest that they move on to the interview room, when a slight sneer began to turn up the corners of Valdario's mouth.

"Le conozco. Oh, si. Le reconozco."

The two guards next to Valdario looked from their prisoner to the group of men in the hall, but before they could make any effort to usher him on to the interview room which was their destination, Valdario cocked his head at Don and said, "How's your back, _Agente_?"

The look of pure loathing that shown in Agent Eppes' eyes was enough to send a chill down the USDA's spine. Time suddenly sped up and things happened so quickly that even looking back months later, Howard Meeks was still not sure he had recorded the events accurately in his mind.

Agent Eppes cocked back his right arm to throw a punch at Valdario. If the two guards realized what was about to happen, they had no intention of stopping it. Even Merrick made no effort to impede him. The Assistant Director only glared at the cartel kingpin with as much emotion as his subordinate.

Just as Don's fist came forward, an arm shot out from behind him and hooked his elbow, preventing the blow from making contact. Meeks watched as Special Agent Colby Granger stepped into view. Obviously anticipating the senior agent's reaction to being grabbed from behind, Colby stepped to the side and as Don turned on him, blindly swigging his other fist, Colby stepped forward, meeting his blow. Grabbing Don's wrist in a defensive move that Meeks had seen in more than a few military movies, Colby jerked him forward, pulling the older man off balance. Meeks was confident that if Don had been thinking clearly, he could have easily countered the maneuver, but his focus had been on Valdario and he was unprepared for Granger's assault. Before anyone could breathe, Granger had pulled Eppes close to him, wrapping his powerful arms around the older man's chest.

"Let. Me. Go."

Don's commanding statement was accompanied by a fierce attempt to break free from the iron grip that held him in place. He continued to struggle as Colby hissed something in his ear that sounded to Meeks like_, 'He'll get his before this is over.' _

Howard turned toward Merrick, expecting the administrator to immediately offer some sort of reprimand for what has almost happened. Instead, he found himself awestruck by the look of triumph on Merrick's face at the sight of Miguel Valdario flinching as he waited for the oncoming punch.

As Valdario realized that the threat had been neutralized, the kingpin straightened his shoulders and his face filled with anger at his own reaction to the near-attack. "I am not an American, but I have civil liberties! You bring this man here to intimidate and threaten me! You were going to allow him to strike me, while I was in restraints! This is abuse! Your courts do not allow this!"

Merrick looked pointedly at the guards escorting Valdario and said in a loud voice, "I didn't see any threat. Did either of you officers see anything like that?"

The guards picked up immediately on the hint and one replied firmly, "No, Sir. I didn't see or hear anything of the sort."

The other guard simply shook his head and said, "Nope."

Merrick turned a steely gaze on Howard Meeks, daring him to disagree.

"Well," Howard considered his answer as he looked from Merrick to the despicable man in shackles, who for some strange reason looked like he expected the lawyer to be on his side. Staring directly into the eyes of the prisoner, the man who had nearly succeeded in having him killed, Howard shook his head. "I can't say that I saw anything."

The anger in Valdario's eyes that was directed at him only served to increase Howard's own vehemence and he smiled. "It's my eyesight, you see… All messed up from the bombing yesterday and things are still a little blurry."

One of the guards actually laughed aloud and the sound, along with Howard's comment, seemed to breach the fury that had taken a hold of Don's mind and body. His tense muscles relaxed, but Agent Granger made no obvious move to relinquish is grip on the senior agent. As Howard watched, realization seemed to fill Don's eyes as he looked from him to Merrick and then at the cartel boss.

With a slight nod at Colby, indicating that he should escort Don from the Rice Building, Merrick turned to Meeks and said, "After you Mister Meeks." as he held out his arm toward the end of the hallway where the interview room was located. It took Howard a moment to realize that he had inadvertently won the argument with the Assistant Director and that they were going too continue as though none of this had ever happened. The two guards got the idea and quickly pushed Valdario past the small group and down the hall. When they were several feet away, Colby released Don, who made no effort to pursue his nemesis, but instead headed back the way he had come. Granger quickly moved to follow him toward the exit, as Merrick headed in the opposite direction, following the guards and prisoner.

Drawing a deep breath, Howard turned and hobbled back down the hallway.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

As Don stopped at the front desk to retrieve his gun and sign out, Colby caught up to him. "You okay?"

As he re-holstered his weapon, Don suddenly found it difficult to look his friend in the eye. "No." Without waiting for Colby to get his own firearm back from the woman behind the counter, Don headed for the door. He had almost blown everything. Every sacrifice he had made would have been for nothing if he had gotten his own testimony thrown out by assaulting the defendant. Somehow, even in his rage, he had never _really_ expected to get close enough to Valdario to do any damage. He had to sign in at the front desk. He had to relinquish his side arm. Since he wasn't officially on duty, he hadn't been carrying a back-up piece, but they had even confiscated his pocket knife before they had allowed him to pass through into the detention area. Upon his arrival the duty officer took shocked notice of the blood that covered his hands and clothes. She immediately told him that A.D Merrick and USDA Meeks were both there to talk with Valdario and his lawyer. Don's appearance actually speeded up the process of getting him into the facility rather than hindering him because the duty officer assumed that something else had gone horribly wrong and the AD needed to know about it immediately. Even knowing that Merrick would be right there, Don had fully intended to make his best effort to kick Valdario's ass all over that detention center, but somehow he had never expected to get as close as he had.

"Don!"

Colby's voice rang out from behind him, but Don didn't stop. Once he was out of the building, he headed straight for the SUV. He had parked catawampus across several parking spaces and was enraged to find a second SUV, identical to his own, blocking him in.

"Damn it."

Kicking the tire of the offending vehicle, Don wheeled around and waited for Colby to follow him out of the Rice Building. He had almost managed to calm himself down by the time Colby exited behind him, but the agent's first words to him only served to reignite his anger.

"What the hell were you thinking, Don."

"You shouldn't even have to ask."

Taking a step forward, Don's voice shook with his unexpressed rage as he remembered exactly what had impelled him to try to execute a physical attack on Valdario. "You saw him down there. You saw Charlie… The way he was holding on to that baby… Can you even begin to imagine what this has done to him?"

Colby nodded in understanding. "Yeah, Don. I saw him. And, he'll be all right. He may need a little time, but he _will_ be all right. Hell, look at what you've been though. You Eppes' are made out of some pretty tough stuff."

Shaking his head, Don crossed his arms and leaned up against the SUV. "He's not like me, Granger. Charlie's…different. He can't just compartmentalize everything he comes up against."

Taking the hint that Don needed to talk himself down, Colby leaned up against the SUV next to him. "Oh, he's more like you than you think. I'd say he is doing a damn good job keeping his shit straight, with or without training. Witnessing that accident….dealing with the death of a close friend and then becoming a foster father in the space of a couple of days? I know it's not war, but, man… he's doing all right. And this…what happened today, Don. I think your brother's going to be okay." Turning his head toward the senior agent, he raised his eyebrows questioningly. "What about you, Don? Are you going to be all right?"

With his eyes fixed on an oil spot in the middle of the parking lot, Don exhaled loudly as he answered. "I'm not really sure. That son-of-a-bitch almost cost me my family."

"And beating him to a pulp was going to make you feel better about that?"

Don lifted his head to meet the younger agent's gaze and he felt his anger returning full force. "YES!"

"Why?"

Don's mouth dropped open as he tried to formulate an answer and Colby repeated the question. "Why? Why would that make you feel any better than being at the hospital right now, comforting and supporting the family you almost lost?"

"Because I'm pissed off, Granger!" Taking several steps away from his vehicle, Don ran his hand through his hair, then lowered his voice and continued. "I'm so pissed off that I can't even see straight. I just wanted that bastard to pay for what he just put my brother through."

The consensus that Valdario was going to pay for his crimes went unspoken as Colby nodded in understanding. "Charlie went through hell today, Don. But, he's a strong guy. Surely you realize that?"

To Don, there was something accusatory in Colby's question and he couldn't help but react to that. "Do you think you know my brother better than I do? Has he changed so much in the past three months that _you_ know him better than _I do_?"

Putting his hands up in front of him in a gesture of capitulation, Colby tied to keep his voice calm as he spoke. "No, Don. I'm not saying that. But, look at everything he's faced in the past few years…since he started working with you…with us…" He furrowed his brow earnestly as he continued. "He may not have the training to get through something like this alone, but Don…he'll get through it. He's got you and your dad..." Colby's voice trailed off as he looked at Don, waiting for a response.

The senior agent had bowed his head and was exhaling loudly, as he continued to try to calm himself down. Taking his anger out on Colby, or himself, wasn't going help and he knew that, but thinking about the look of abject terror on Charlie's face when he had seen him huddled at the end of the basement corridor was almost intolerable. He had been bleeding and in shock. Don wasn't even sure if he had realized what was going on when Greer had taken him back toward the elevator and up to the emergency room. And yet, what had he done? Instead of being there to give Charlie the reassurance of his presence, he ran off half-cocked to confront Valdario.

"Yeah… He's got me." The self-loathing in Don's voice was palpable as he turned to glare at Colby. "He's got me, and a lot of good that does him."

"Don. Blaming yourself for any of this isn't going to change things. Not for Charlie and not for you."

He held the senior agent's stare for several seconds before Don turned away from him and headed for the driver's side door of his SUV. He heard him mutter under his breath, "I shouldn't be here."

Even though he suspected that Don was referring to his home and not the detention center, Colby nodded in agreement. "I think we should get you back to the hospital. Merrick may have kept quiet just now, but Megan's gonna read you the riot act for taking off like that without a protection detail. I'll call and let her know you're with me."

Don pulled his keys out of his pocket, turning back toward Colby as he opened his door. "Thanks."

"Sure." Colby circled around to his own vehicle, then as an afterthought stuck his head over the top of the cab as he climbed in. "Hey, Don, you should probably try to reach your dad. He'll want to know what's going on."

Don nodded, but didn't reply as he climbed into his driver's seat and started the SUV. As it turned out, he didn't have to call his dad. They hadn't even pulled out of the Rice Building parking lot, when his cell phone rang. Alan had overheard two of the agents talking about the death of Agent Burrows, but both men had quickly clammed up when he tried to question them about what had happened. Don was able to convince his father that he was fine and that Charlie and Adam were not seriously injured and were getting medical attention. After a promise that he would explain everything when they got home, Don hung up and threw his phone down into the empty passenger seat. As confident and convincing as he had sounded on the phone, the conversation left Don shaking slightly. Alan had never even questioned the fact that he might be somewhere other than the hospital, waiting to see about his brother, and his father's mislaid faith in him made him feel nauseated.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Charlie looked up at the clock on the wall of the private examination room. Two hours had passed since Agent Greer had rushed him and Adam back up the ER. Charlie had allowed a nurse, under the eye of two other agents, to take Adam away from him for examination. But, he refused to allow the child to be taken to a different room, a choice that Agent Greer immediately reinforced. Charlie wasn't sure if it was the blow to his head, or just the shock of everything that had happened, but before he knew it, he had been stitched up, changed into a hospital gown and was taken down to radiology for a head CT. It wasn't until they were on their way back up, and in the elevator, that Charlie realized he hadn't seen Don. At first he was curious as to where his brother was, but he quickly became worried when Megan met them in the hallway and took Agent Greer aside, leaving two more agents whom he did not recognize to escort him back to the exam room. When Megan and Agent Greer finally entered behind them, Charlie began to grow annoyed. If something was wrong, or something had happened to Don, Megan would tell him, he was sure of that. And with that knowledge, he began to get angry. His neurologist had been paged, and now he was sitting in the exam room, holding a sedated infant in his arms and waiting for his films to come back, in the hopes that he would be released to go home. Agent Greer was the only one in the room with him, but Charlie knew the other two agents were just outside and he was sure that by now; an entire legion of federal officers had descended upon the hospital in the interest of his safety. But the one agent he expected to be by his side was nowhere to be seen.

As if in answer to his ponderings, the door opened and Don slipped in. He exchanged a glance with Agent Greer, who took the cue and seemed to meld into the background of the small examination room. Greer was a large man and it amazed Don how he could suddenly become so inconspicuous, that he really seemed not to be there at all. Turning his attention to his brother, Don whispered, "Hey, Buddy, how're you doing?"

Charlie didn't look up. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the salve-covered burn mark on the back of Adam's head. "How am I doing?" He spoke in a whisper, but his voice was edged with bitter anger. "That's a hell of a question to ask me, Don."

"Charlie, I…"

"How could you just leave like that? I needed you here, Don! We needed you."

Don was still trying to answer, not having even formed a complete thought in his mind, as the guilt he was feeling increased tenfold. But, he didn't get out another word before Charlie continued speaking.

"Where were you anyway? I thought... I expected you to…" Charlie stumbled over his words for a moment, but continued quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on the child in his arms. "You're my brother and you just disappeared. I understand how important this case is to you. I know how badly you suffered to get the evidence against Valdario; I saw it with my own eyes, Don. So don't think I don't understand. I guess I just thought that Adam and I would be more important to you than…than….whatever it was that you have been doing for the past couple of hours."

Charlie was careful to keep his voice low so as not to disturb the child sleeping in his arms, but the obvious anger in his voice was so clear that Don felt as if his brother were shouting at him. The guilt that he was already feeling morphed into a deep, resounding remorse and it stole his breath away. He wanted to say everything that he was thinking, he just couldn't find the words.

Realizing that no response was forthcoming, Charlie lifted his head and looked up into Don's eyes. The deep sadness that he could see stopped him from saying anything else, as a long forgotten memory suddenly sprang to the surface of Charlie's mind. He had been almost nine years old, still fairly small for his age. One of the neighborhood bullies, Billie Madagan, had found great delight in picking on him whenever the opportunity presented itself. One Saturday afternoon, while playing at the park, Billie had snuck up behind him and shoved him off of the monkey bars. He had fallen hard, splitting a wide gash in his forehead. He had expected taunting and berating to follow, as was customary with Billie's assaults, but instead the larger boy turned away from him and ran. At first Charlie wasn't sure what had caused the bully to back down; not until Don had charged past him, pursuing Billie across the playground. He caught up to him halfway across the park. In spite of his own humiliation, Charlie found some satisfaction in watching his big brother tackle the other boy to the ground. After the brutal fist fight that ensued, Don walked away with a split lip and a few good bruises. Billie, however, was left in a heap next to a park bench and didn't move for several minutes after Don had walked away. The boy who had taken such great joy in tormenting him lay crying and bleeding from a badly broken nose; very, very sorry that he hadn't noticed that Don Eppes had accompanied his little brother to the park.

It was in that moment, as the memory faded away, that Charlie knew with absolute certainty where Don had been. He wanted to say something; to ask Don to confirm his suspicions, but then, for the first time in their adult lives, Charlie saw a tear drop from his older brother's eye and it shocked him into silence. Don found his voice but his words came out in a hoarse whisper.

"You are more important to me than anything else in this world, Charlie." Then the agent got slowly to his feet and stepped silently from the room.

TBC

* * *

_English translation_

"_I know you. Oh, yes. I do recognize you."_


	25. Never Close Yours Lips

**Chapter Twenty Five: ****Never Close Yours Lips Where You Have Opened Your Heart**

The ride home was excessively quiet. Don kept looking over at Charlie, expecting him to say something… anything. But, the young man simply stared out the side window, lost in thought. He knew that Charlie was angry with him for leaving the hospital to confront Valdario, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He was certain that he would be facing a suspension at the very least for his actions, but that wasn't what really bothered him. It was Charlie, the look of disbelief, of anger and of disappointment in his brother's eyes; that was his real punishment. He was only gone for two hours, but that was all the time it took for Special Agent Don Eppes to sabotage his career and betray his brother's trust. Colby had arrived at the detention facility only minutes after he had, just in time to stop him from doing any permanent damage to their case. Facing the dutiful questions and trying to explain himself to his fellow agent had been easy compared to going back to the hospital and facing the accusing eyes of his tormented brother.

_'How could you just leave like that? I needed you here, Don! __**We**__ needed you!'_

Don was almost relieved by Charlie's anger. At least he had stopped shaking and was able to answer questions and interact without that shell-shocked look in his eyes. That look, however, had been replaced with an expression of fury and betrayal that served to exponentially increase the guilt that Don was already feeling. He'd expected that vibe to continue on the ride home, but now, Charlie just looked sad; As if… as if he had lost something dear to him. That bothered Don more than the initial shock, or the even the anger. This emotion was not some temporary result of trauma. This was something that he knew Charlie would be feeling for a long time to come. It was a feeling of despair that he knew quite well.

At some point during the ride, Charlie had reached up and adjusted the rear view mirror so that he could see Adam from the passenger seat. As closely as the large black FBI tactical van was traveling behind them, Don was tempted to move it back into position. But, as often as Charlie's eyes were traveling from the window to the mirror, he was almost afraid to. And after all, it was Charlie's car. So, instead, Don dropped his eyes to the right and the left, checking the side view mirrors. Colby was keeping his SUV lined up directly with them, covering the passenger side of the car, and the driver's side of the small blue Prius was being flanked by a second SUV. Leading the procession was another van, whose driver was setting the pace in excess of the speed limit by about 10 miles per hour. There was no way, short of an RPG attack, that anyone from the Valdario cartel was going to get near the Eppes family, which made Don simultaneously tense and relieved. They were safe… for now.

As they approached the driveway of the craftsman house, the two vans quickly pulled up onto the curb and before Don even put the Prius into park, five agents had surrounded the vehicle. Climbing out of the driver's seat, Don looked up at the front of Charlie's home.

_'When did I start thinking of this as Charlie's home and not mine?'_

Catching sight of his father looking out the window, Don nodded his head in acknowledgment. The relief of actually setting eyes on his sons was openly visible on Alan's face and Don just hoped that once he knew the details about everything that had happened, that expression wouldn't transform into anger. The agent next to him spoke, diverting his train of thought.

"Sir, we need to get you out of the open."

"Yeah…okay."

Leaning down into the car, Don glanced from Adam to Charlie.

"The agents are going to escort us in. Are you ready?"

Charlie nodded without verbally responding and leaned in between the seats to unbuckle Adam. The baby remained asleep as he pulled him close to his chest and climbed out of the car. Even knowing that they were surrounded by federal agents who were charged with protecting them from any more harm, Charlie couldn't help but turn his head to scan the yard and the street behind them. As they met at the front of the car, the whole group of agents merged together to form a human barrier around the Eppes brother's and they all headed toward the front door.

His phone conversation with Don had left Alan beside himself with worry and fear. He had barely been able to refrain from being overwrought by those feelings as he had seen Don step out of the car in one piece. His son's reassuring nod had actually made him feel a little weak in the knees, but he waited until he saw Charlie step from the vehicle before he allowed himself to move away from the window. Sagging against the couch for support, Alan turned toward the dining room where Amita was standing. She had arrived moments before the first throng of agents had descended upon the craftsman house just after the kidnapping attempt. And, in spite of her protests that she should be at the hospital with Charlie, she was not allowed to leave. The lead agent in the protection detail was insistent that she remain at the Eppes' home until Charlie and the baby were secure, and until they were able to get an LAPD patrol to clear her apartment in case she had been targeted due to her associated with the family.

The woman that Alan hoped might one day be his daughter-in-law gave him an encouraging smile as one of the agents inside the house opened the front door. Once Don, Charlie and Adam were safely inside the domicile and the door had been closed, Alan all but launched himself at his sons. Encircling them all in a firm embrace, Alan had to fight his emotions as he felt Don and Charlie both return the squeeze. Amita remained in the dining room, making no effort to hold back her tears as the family held together in an uncharacteristic group hug for a moment. When Alan finally released his boys, he stepped back and looked over Charlie critically. The hospital had given him a set of scrubs to change into, and Alan couldn't help but shudder at the thought of the condition his clothes must have been in. He noted the bandage on his temple and the stitches in his neck with increasing dismay. Don had told him that Charlie was fine, but his son looked anything but fine. Giving his full attention to the baby in his son's arms, Alan could see that Adam too had been given clean clothes. The blanket that the baby was wrapped in was crisp, and obviously fresh from the hospital nursery.

Alan reached forward the pulled the wrap up around the sleeping baby's chin. "Here, Charlie. Let me take him."

"No!" Charlie quickly stepped back, clutching the sleeping child up to his chest. "I have him, okay?"

Seeing the surprise and hurt in his father's face, Charlie softened his tone.

"I'm... sorry. It's been... Look, I just want to stay with him."

The moment of family unity was obviously over when Charlie turned and shot an angry look at his older brother.

"I want to be _with_ him. In case _he_ needs me."

Turning back to his father, the angry look melted away and suddenly Charlie looked hopelessly forlorn and defeated.

"I'm… I'll just go lay him down in his crib. He's out like a light because of the stress and the sedative that they gave him."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned quickly and headed upstairs. Alan turned a hurt and confused expression to Don.

"Donnie?"

"Dad."

With a deep sigh, Don diverted his eyes to the floor. After a moments silence, he spoke, choosing not to address his father's implied question.

"He almost last Adam twice today. I don't think he will let anyone near him for a while. I wouldn't be surprised if he slept in the rocking chair in the nursery tonight."

Alan stood and stared at his eldest son, knowing full well he would not get an elucidation as to the reason behind Charlie's open hostility without further questioning. There were obvious reasons for Don to feel culpable for what had happened today, and Charlie had every right to be sullen and frightened. But it was clear that something had happened between them to amplify those emotions. If he stood there and waited for Don to say something, Alan knew he would be waiting forever. With all of the agents, Don's peers and coworkers, in and about the house, it wasn't an appropriate time for them to talk about it.

"Dad, I have to…I have work to do."

Alan nodded as Don turned and walked over to where several agents had begun to gather around the dining room table where they were discussing the protection details for the rest of the weekend. He noticed that Amita had slipped out of the dining room and was standing at the foot of the stairs, her face turned up toward the second floor. After several minutes of silent contemplation, the young woman slowly mounted the stairs as if in an effort to make as little noise as possible. Watching her disappear up the stairs, Alan turned back to the discussion around the dining room table.

Amita moved quietly down the hall, stopping in front of the nursery door. Charlie was standing at the crib, gently rubbing Adam's back. After several minutes, he dropped his arm and allowed his head to fall toward his chest. Suddenly, he began to sway on his feet and he moved backward drunkenly, collapsing into the rocking chair.

"Charlie." She spoke under her breath, and Charlie gave no indication that he had heard her say his name. She was immediately frightened that he was suffering from some somatic effect for the ordeal at the hospital, but as she moved into the room she realized that he was not overcome by dizziness or pain, but by emotion. Her heart broke as she watched him cover his face in his hands and begin to weep silently, his shoulders shaking with his voiceless lament.

"Oh, Charlie."

Crossing the floor, Amita pulled out the small stool that was tucked in along side of the changing table and used it to sit down in front of him. After a few moments, Charlie looked up. He allowed the tears to run freely down his face, not knowing or not caring that she was seeing this raw display of emotion from him.

"I thought I knew... After the shooting at the FBI offices I thought I really knew what fear was."

Charlie spoke in a halting voice that was thick with emotion, not trying to hide or even control the profound nature of what he was feeling.

"What I felt today..." He paused to breathe through the sob that was threatening to escape his throat. "… it transcends anything I have ever experienced before."

He looked up and into the face of the woman in front of him as fresh tears dropped from his expressive eyes.

"Even when mom was dying... I have never felt this sensation. Amita, I would swear to you that my heart actually stopped beating for a moment. I almost lost him... I... I pointed a gun at another human being today and pulled the trigger."

Amita's eyes flew open wide, unable to hide her surprise at this pronouncement. That must have been one of the details that Don left out when he called Alan. Charlie saw her shocked expression and allowed a harsh laugh to escape him.

"I didn't kill him. The safety was on, but if it hadn't been… Amita, the intent was still there. I was so scared… I'm still scared. When that man, Belt was his name… when Belt pointed his gun at Adam and said…"

Charlie was unable to stop the sob that escaped him as he continued.

"…When he said that he had warned me and to say 'bye bye', I knew it was over. I turned and wrapped my body around him, but the bullet would have gone right through me. It would have still killed him. Agent Greer saved us today. If it weren't for him… I really would have lost him forever."

Amita tried to camouflage her horrified expression as she reached out and took his hand. Much to her own surprise, she was also speechless and within seconds, Charlie continued.

"What am I going to do? I don't know what to do with these feelings, I can't make them go away, I can't quantify them, I have no control over them, but I have to - I have to control this. I have to figure out a way to..."

Finding her voice, Amita cut him off.

"To what, Charlie"

Charlie looked over at the crib and watched the steady rise and fall of Adam's back as he slept. He wasn't worried about disturbing the child because he was still under the effects of the sedative that was given to him at the hospital.

"I _can't_ feel this way!"

"Why, Charlie?"

Amita could feel tears filling her own eyes as she inventoried the changes that this child had made in Charlie's life….in their lives.

"You love this child. There is nothing wrong with that."

Charlie tore his eyes from the slumbering baby and stared at Amita.

"It _is_ wrong, Amita. I'm not his father... but… God help me he _feels_ like my son. When his aunt and uncle come to get him... Amita, how am I going to do this? I have been trying to distance myself from him, but I... I don't know how, and after today I _know_ now that I can't."

He hung his head in defeat and whispered, "I can't _not_ love him. I can't _not_ need him."

"And you shouldn't even try, Charlie. You shouldn't even have to try!"

Her tears spilled over the rims of her eyes and ran down her cheeks, dropping to the floor in fat drops.

"Don't you see; you cared for this baby before his parents died. You still cared for him after they died, and that turned into love. There is no turning back now. Love has no limits, Charlie."

"I have only been taking care of him for four months. I'm not his family. I have no right..."

Amita's eyes flashed as she looked up him.

"That's ridiculous, Charlie! Do you think that parents who adopt children love them any less than parents who have had children of their own? Love isn't bound by time or distance _or_ blood . You love Adam today and you always will. When his aunt and uncle come for him, you will still love him...

When he goes back to the east coast with them, you will still love him...

When you have a child of your own, you will still love him.

You have every right to love him. That love is what has made you such a wonderful guardian. That love is why Ethan _chose_ you for him."

Charlie's tears had stopped as he listened to Amita. Knowing that she was right didn't make it any easier. When it was time for Adam to leave he knew that his heart would break in two. He looked into her eyes and found himself drawn to her in a way he never had before. Without really knowing why the impulse came over him, he took both of her hands in his and drew her close.

"Amita, will you marry me?"

She leaned in to him and kissed him tenderly then pulled back slightly and stared directly into his eyes.

"No."

It took a moment for the word to register and the look of shock that widened his eyes prompted her to continue.

"Not like this."

Still holding his hands, Amita squeezed them tightly.

"Charlie, when you ask me that question, I want you to mean it."

He opened his mouth to defend his position, but she didn't let him continue.

"Our life together can't begin as a result of a loss or tragedy. _If_ you want to be with me, it needs to be because you want _me_ - not because you want something to fill a hole left by a different heartache."

A melancholy smile lifted the corner of Charlie's mouth. Amita's words, although painful to hear, were non-the-less true. Pulling her to his chest, he stroked her hair affectionately.

"Amita, will you help me? I _need_ you to help me get through this."

Wrapping her arms around him, Amita buried her face in Charlie's neck.

"You know I will, Charlie. You know I will."

* * *

Don walked into the kitchen, leaving his father and the agents around the dining room table. Alan was writing down his daily schedule and what needs and supplies the family would require during the upcoming week. Happy to hear that his father actually intended to follow the advice of the agent in charge and stay at home until it was deemed safe, Don allowed the red door to close behind him. With a deep sigh, he leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. 

"Don."

He twisted his head around to face the source of the distinctly female voice that had just spoken his name.

"Megan. When did you get here?"

"A few minutes ago."

Crossing her arms, Megan stared sternly at him over the island counter seperating them.

"What in God's name were you thinking, Don? Going down to the Rice Building to confront Valdario could have jeopardized this entire case!"

Unable to think of an appropriate answer, Don turned his back on her piercing green eyes. His lack of response fueled her anger and she practically shouted as she said, "You threatened a federal prisoner, Don!"

Turning back around, Don put his hands on the countertop and met her angry glare.

"Colby…"

She cut him off. "Colby kept you from making a colossal mistake. As it stands, you just made really big one! If you had actually hit him, then you can bet money on the fact that the defense would use that to what ever advantage they could. They might have even been able to get your testimony discounted!"

Megan's raised voice had carried into the dining room and Alan stepped through the door, rounding on his son.

"You went to see that drug lord? After what happened to Charlie and Adam? Donnie..."

Alan stammered, obviously at a loss for words. Don already felt terrible about what he had almost done. Colby had done a fine job driving home exactly what _could_ have transpired if Don had been allowed to exact his ideas of revenge on Valdario. He didn't need Megan to expound on what he already knew. He had royally screwed up and now Charlie was angry and disappointed in him. To add insult to injury, Don was certain that Merrick would be along shortly to deliver his own remarks on the events that had transpired. He couldn't deal with the expressed condemnation of his father as well.

"Look, Dad, what I did... I did. I can't change that now and I will never be able to forgive myself for abandoning Charlie like that. He is obviously furious with me and he has every right to be, but that is something that we'll have to work out between us."

He turned steely eyes to back to Megan as he continued.

"And _you_… you know what I was thinking; or more to the point, that I _wasn't_ thinking. That bastard almost killed my brother and his child twice today! Burrows is dead and that smug son of a bitch just sits there in prison watching it all unfold! We lost a damned fine agent today because he was protecting _my_ family. You know perfectly well why I went down there, so don't even ask that question."

As Don spoke, Megan bowed her head in silent agreement. The vigorousness of her nod increased when he said, "And, when Merrick gets here, I'll be suspended… maybe even fired outright. I am well aware of the consequences of my actions, so lecturing me at this point isn't going to accomplish anything."

Alan gasped; the look of shock and disappointment on his face melting away, replaced with concern for his son. Megan was still upset with Don, but she also understood what he was feeling. Nevertheless, what he did went beyond unprofessional. He was a seasoned agent and he should have known better. Megan was thanking God, and every other deity she could think of, that Colby had anticipated where Don was going and what his intentions were. They were damned lucky that Colby had been there to prevent Don from actually hitting the man. Since there was no proof of his physical aggression, and no witnesses willing to testify to it, she was pretty sure that the defense was not going to be able to use it. But, that didn't change the fact that Don had lost all objectivity where Valdario was concerned. That, in its self, worried her.

Although he still did not fully understand what had happened to Charlie and Adam, or exactly what Don had done in response, Alan felt the need to defend his son and he turned on Megan.

"I don't pretend that anyone has shared any details about this with me, " As Alan paused to take a breath, Megan opened up her mouth to answer his perceived request for more information, but he cut her off before she could get a word out. "…and for the most part, I think that's for the best. I don't know what Don did, and I'm not sure I want to."

He cut his eyes over to Don as he continued. "I don't blame him for his actions, whatever they may have been. This… this Valdario…" he spat the name out with venom in his voice "...has attempted to hurt this family, to kidnap or murder Charlie and Adam! This drug lord has taken the lives of innocent people trying to keep his sorry ass out of prison. My son was only acting as any man would, given the circumstances, and it is unreasonable to fire him for that."

In spite of Don's anger and resentment at being the subject of this exchange, a feeling of warmth flooded through him from his father's show of unwavering support. Nevertheless, he was about to tell Alan that he didn't need his actions defended when a deep voice responded first.

"Don isn't going to be fired."

They all turned their heads toward the swinging door that lead from the kitchen as Walter Merrick entered the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him.

"I think that once this Grand Jury hearing is over, a temporary leave of absence _might_ be appropriate. Don't _you_ agree, Agent Eppes?" He stopped in front of Don and gave him a look that plainly stated that that this was a non-negotiable suggestion.

Amita had somehow convinced Charlie to come down stairs and get some air out by the kio pond and they both stepped into the kitchen just as Don said, "Yes, Sir."

Charlie automatically assumed that Don had just been suspended for his impromptu trip to confront Valdario. Before he could say anything, Merrick noticed his arrival and turned toward him. "Are you all right, Doctor Eppes?"

"You're suspending Don?"

A slight smirk lifted the corners of Merrick's mouth as he turned to face Charlie. "Special Agent Eppes will be taking a leave of absence. That is all. Now, may I ask; are you and the baby all right?"

Giving Don a quick glance, Charlie nodded his head.

"We are as well as can be expected after what happened."

**

* * *

**

It took several hours for the atmosphere in the craftsman house to simmer down. The constant presence of armed federal agents traipsing from one room to another eventually died down to a single agent posted in the living room, near the front door, and one in the back hallway, watching over the rear door. They were keeping an agent in the garage; several on the grounds around the house, and with a surveillance team posted in a van on the curb, any visitor to see the Eppes family would be met by an armed brigade before they made it two feet onto the lawn.

Megan volunteered to see Amita safely home and once they were on their way, and Don had shown Merrick out, he found his way to the kitchen again. The house was silent for the first time since they had arrived home and Don stood for a moment, listening to the stillness. The past few months rushed past him in a blur and he allowed himself to drop heavily into one of the kitchen chairs. He tried to focus on the events of the day, but instead Don found himself plagued with memories of Robin and Daniel. Robin being on his mind, even amidst the chaos, made perfect sense since she had just been killed. But, why was he thinking about Daniel now? Even as he pondered that question, he knew the answer. In just over forty-eight hours he would have to re-live the experiences he had endured at the compound in Cali. And he knew, as surely as the sun rose each morning, Daniel's death and his feelings of culpability in that death would haunt him for the rest of his days.

He had dutifully gone to the department assigned psychologist and discussed the torture, the sleep and food deprivation and the abuses that he and the other harvesters had endured on a daily basis. He'd talked about the lashing he'd endured and the two days that he had hung outside, waiting to die. But, he had never discussed Daniel at all with his shrink… not even the rudimentary information about his death. In fact, Charlie was the only one he had even mentioned Daniel to outside of official meetings and debriefings.

Alan stepped into the kitchen quietly and watched his son for a few minutes before coming over and taking a seat at the table. When Don looked up into the older man's eyes, for the briefest glimmer of a second he saw Charlie's eyes staring back at him. In that instant, Don was hit with the realization that he had shut his father out of almost everything that had happened.

He could tell himself that it was because he wanted to protect him from the stress and worry. But for the most part, Alan knew the dangers that Don's job entailed. Telling himself that the information about the job in Columbia was classified had worked for a few days. Sharing the details of his assignment with Charlie hadn't even nullified that reason; since his brother had a higher level of security clearance than most of the agents he worked with. But, Don knew deep down that the real reason he had kept his father in the dark about his experiences in Cali was so that he would not see the disappointment in his eyes; the same disappointment that he had seen only hours ago in his brother's eyes.

Unbidden, a wave of emotion slammed into the agent like a tidal wave and he couldn't stop his body from trembling under the onslaught. He turned his face down and looked at the table, as tears of remorse and regret stung his eyes. As far back as he could remember, he had always thrilled in seeing true pride shining in his father's face. And to keep that look there, he had worked very hard to excel in all he did. Over the past two months he had built a wall around himself to keep his shame hidden; a shame that he was sure would strip that pride away. Just as suddenly, Don felt that he didn't deserve any of it. In the end; in his heart, he knew that he had allowed Daniel to die. Then, he had left his brother to fulfill a need for vengeance, when he should have been at his side supporting him. A hollow need, which had accomplished nothing except to make Charlie feel betrayed. He had utterly failed at everything that he had done, or not done, since that night in the wine cellar when he had held Daniel in his arms and watched his life fade away.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm really sorry."

Don's voice came out as a horse whisper and Alan reached across the table and placed his hands over his son's.

"I shut you out," Don kept his eyes on their hands as he spoke. "I let Charlie down and now I've jeopardized everything that we've worked for."

"Donnie, I don't know how much this case has been compromised by your visit to the prison today and I can't speak for Charlie or what transpired between you two. But, I can speak for myself."

Don looked up at his father and saw no recrimination, only compassion and love mixed with a little confusion.

"How have you shut me out, son?"

It was odd how a memory could come upon you so strongly that you would swear that it was real; and it was in that moment, Don clearly heard his mother's voice as if she were standing right behind him, speaking the phrase that she had uttered many times to him when he was a child.

_'A lie of omission is still a lie, Donnie.'_

"Dad, what happened in Colombia… I never talked with you about that."

Alan felt his gut tighten with an unpleasant mixture of anticipation and revulsion.

"I assumed that you would talk to me when you were ready. Has that time come?"

Indirectly answering the question by continuing to speak, Don pulled his hands out from under his father's warm grasp. "There are things that happened down there, Dad; things that I'm not proud of. A young man named Daniel was there. He and I ended up talking to each other a lot. I learned about his family; a family he wanted to go back to someday, after he got away from the drugs and straightened his life out."

Nodding in encouragement, Alan leaned back in the chair as Don continued.

"I told him about you and Charlie and how much I missed both of you. I kept the conversation general so that I wouldn't blow my cover, but somehow he figured out that I wasn't who I said I was. Then, he saw me when I stole the flash drives from the lab computer and he knew that I was the agent that the cartel had heard about. He knew that I was the reason that all of the Anglo men had been pulled from the fields and thrown into the cellar. I was the reason that we were being slowly starved to death. I was the reason for the beatings."

Alan blanched at what he was hearing, but he didn't interrupt his son. Don obviously needed to get this out.

"After I found the information we needed, I... I guess I just got sloppy. I dropped one of the flash drives that I took from the lab's computer. Daniel found it. He might have just given it back to me, but…"

Don stopped and his eyes took on a far away look as he remembered the events that lead to the young man's death.

"They found it on him. They knew the compound had been infiltrated by a US agent, and they assumed he wasthe spy. It all happened while I was out in the fields making my final drop. And they didn't just beat him, Dad, they tortured him. When I was brought back to the cellar and found out what had happened, I didn't know what to do. I was afraid that my cover had been blown and that I would be next. I didn't think that Daniel would be able to hold out against them. When he was brought back to the cellar, he was beaten so badly that he couldn't walk; he could barely move. I was ready for them to take me next. I knew it was over… but, they just left him there in the middle of the floor, bleeding, and walked out."

Alan leaned forward, trying to show his support without betraying the horror he was feeling inside. He had a very bad feeling about where this story was going and he knew that Don was bearing his soul right now.

"He said that he hadn't told them anything, but he was scared. He was an addict. They knew that, and he was terrified that they would use the drugs against him. He was sure that if they did that, he would be unable to prevent himself from telling them the truth about me. He said… he told me that his life was meaningless. He had never done anything but fail and disappoint his family, and now he had a chance to give his life some real meaning. He told me that he knew I was there to help bring down the cartel and he didn't want to be the reason that my mission failed. When he asked me to bring him his bag, I had no idea why until…until he asked me to open it and I found almost an entire key of pure heroin in tiny little plastic bags. He had been stealing from the lab every time he worked there and was keeping them hidden in his personal belongings."

Don dropped his head to his chest and took a few deep breaths. It was too late to turn back now. He had to tell his father everything. He had to confess his sins to someone, or else his soul would wither and die.

"He was in so much pain, Dad… He'd fought his addiction so hard, but it had gotten the best of him. I... I let myself believe that I was helping him. The opiate would ease his pain, but I knew perfectly well what he wanted. Hell; when they first brought him back to the cellar, he had begged me to kill him. I told him I wouldn't… that I couldn't. Then, when he asked me to just help him with the pain, to help him take the edge off... I told myself that I was only helping him, that if he could get some sleep… some relief from the pain, then we could figure out how to get him out in the morning. So, I prepared the drugs for him. He had a spoon, and a lighter and an old syringe… God only knows where he got it, or who had used it last… But, I..I.."

Don paused, working up the nerve to continue his confession. "I measured it out… told him to tell me 'when'. I knew it was too much, Dad. I knew what it would do and I'm responsible for that. No matter how many times I look back at that night, no matter how I try to spin it; I not only let him overdose…. Dad… I… I helped him. His hands were shaking too badly to do it himself, so I did it for him."

Self revulsion seeped from Don's voice as he choked out his words. "In the back of my mind I _knew_… I knew that if he died, then my cover was safe. I helped this young man kill himself and then held him as the convulsions wracked his body until he died. I might just as well have pulled out a gun and shot him in the head. It would have been quicker and less… painful."

A tear slipped down Don's cheek and landed on the table top. "When the guards came back and found him dead, they all assumed that I had killed him. The men who had beat Daniel had announced to everyone that he was the one responsible for the conditions we were being forced to live and work in. They thought I had done it to make him pay for the suffering we'd all endured, but they were wrong. I killed him to save myself! I put my desire to come home before his right to live.

It took Don a minute to gather the courage to look into his father's face, fully expecting Alan to see him for the monster he knew he was. But, instead, only love and compassion showed back from the older man's eyes.

"Donnie, you didn't kill Daniel. He had been killing himself for years and he chose to make his death a sacrifice. He gave up his life to save yours in the only way he knew how. It was his choice, son. You cannot hold yourself responsible for Daniel's choice."

"But I do, Dad. I _do_ hold myself responsible. None of this would have happened if…."

"If."

Alan huffed out the word, cutting Don off. "If one thing hadn't happened, something else would have. Feeling guilty and allowing yourself to wallow in the 'what if's'…that's no way to live."

"I got to come home to my family, Dad."

Don looked pitifully at his father, trying to justify the guilt he was feeling. "Daniel will never go home again. If... I was in over my head and I made the wrong choice. Daniel should have gone back to his family. I would have helped him to do that."

"So why don't you?"

Don looked at his father incredulously, not fully understanding what he was suggesting. Realizing this, Alan quickly expounded on his question.

"Donnie, there is a way to find his family isn't there?"

Don nodded. "The FBI may have already. Since Daniel was mistakenly accused of being a federal agent, they were going to track down who he really was and try to get his family into protective custody until this was over. But they haven't kept me in the loop on any of that."

"Well, find out."

Don cocked his eyebrow, and Alan continued with certainty in his voice.

"You'll have some free time after this trial. Why don't you find his family and tell them what he did. How he gave his life to save yours. How he protected the case against the cartel so that this drug lord could be taken down and his drugs could no longer destroy the lives of countless people the way they had destroyed his. They don't need the details, Donnie. But, you can show his family that he did what he set out to do. He conquered his addiction and tried to make a difference in the lives of others just like him."

Don felt his heart lift just a little. That was something that he could do for Daniel, it was something that he _should_ do for him. He had told Charlie he still wanted to go back to Colombia and retrieve Daniel's body. He would do that and bring him home to his family. Daniel could have a proper burial and his wife and daughter would know that he had not failed... that he had been a pivotal part in bringing about the downfall of the largest drug supplier on the west coast.

**

* * *

**

Charlie had gone right back up to the nursery after Amita left and as far as Don knew, he had not left the room since. Standing in the doorway, Don watched his brother as he slowly rocked back and forth in the old fashioned rocking chair. He was watching Adam sleep, all the while keeping the entire room in his line of sight. Don's movement at the door got his attention and Charlie shifted his eyes. Recognizing his older brother's shadow, he turned his head back toward the crib without a word.

Charlie's reaction to seeing him there only reinforced Don's reason for coming. They needed to talk. Don's conversation with his father had lightened his heart enough to face the next obstacle in his road to emotional stability, and that was Charlie. He understood why his brother was angry with him. After what he'd done, he didn't blame him. But if he was going to stay here, at this house, with his family, he needed to clear the air. Slipping into the nursery, Don stepped over to the crib and looked down at the sleeping baby.

"Charlie..."

"Don't."

Charlie didn't move, but his eyes had followed Don across the room. He had prepared himself in advance for Don's attempt at an apology, and he didn't want to hear it. He was still very angry with his older brother, but what was consuming his thoughts was far more insidious than anger. Fear was eating away at him in a way it never had before and knowing that Don was the core reason behind it all was almost more than he could stand. When Don turned away from the crib and fixed his eyes on him, Charlie had to look away.

"I'm sorry, Charlie."

Taking a step forward, Don expected his brother to look up, but Charlie kept his eyes on the floor.

"You don't have to believe me, Charlie. You don't have to accept by apology. But, I _am_ sorry. I was wrong; everything that I have done; from the moment I stole those flash drives from the lab's computer, all the way up to what I did today..."

Cutting him off, Charlie sat forward, frowning. "What do you want from me, Don?"

When Don didn't reply, Charlie brought his head up and met his brother's eyes with a steely glare. "Do you want me to tell you that it's all right? Do you want me to say that I understand?"

Don dropped his head, breaking eye contact and walked over to the door, turning his back to him as he passed by. At first, Charlie didn't think he was going to respond. But as he crossed the threshold of the nursery, Don stopped and looked back over his shoulder. His voice sounded alien to Charlie; demoralized and broken.

"I should never have come here."

Then, he was gone. Charlie could hear Don's footsteps in the hallway and pause for a moment; then he heard a door close. He kept his eyes on the empty doorframe, staring after his brother as varied emotions boiled and churned inside of him.

What Don had just said frightened him, really frightened him… almost as much as having a gun pointed at his head. Because he had thought precisely the same thing as he had sat, watching Adam sleep. And he hated himself for even thinking it.

* * *

The next day, Don and Charlie found it surprisingly easy to avoid each other. Even inside the house, Don had an agent on him at all times. So, every time Charlie would enter the room, Don would simply engage the agent in a discussion about the next shift's security measures. If that topic had already come up in the past hour, he'd ask for an update on the investigation of Belt's body and vehicle. He needn't have concerned himself so much with false pretenses though, because Charlie was so busy with Adam that he found it a simple matter to avoid speaking to his brother. He probably couldn't have held a decent conversation even if he had wanted to. Adam simply wouldn't let Charlie out of his sight and cried with exaggerated wails if the young man set him down or tried to step away from him for even a moment. At one point, Charlie commented to his father that Adam was like a human version of Saran Wrap, clinging to him relentlessly. 

The trauma of the previous day's events seemed to have had a deep psychological affect on the baby. The sedative that they gave him at the emergency room wore off about a half an hour after everyone had gone to bed and Adam had cried most of the night; sobbing even when Charlie was holding him and wailing at the top of his lungs when he was laid down in his crib. Finally, at a loss for anything else to do, Charlie simply took the baby into bed with him and cuddled the weeping infant until they both drifted off.

Unable to sleep, Don had laid in bed listening to the tearful wails of the distraught child. Even if Adam had slept through the night, it would have made little difference to Don's nocturnal condition. His brief talk with Charlie weighed heavily on his mind. At one point, he walked to his brother's room with the intent of making Charlie hear his apology in full. Instead, he stood outside the half open door and watched the room's two occupants as they finally drifted off into a fitful sleep. Once he had been certain that he wouldn't wake them, Don pushed the door open and silently made his way over to the chair at Charlie's desk.

He had spent the entire night there, watching over his brother and the baby as they slept. Before sunrise, he had dozed off himself, but Adam's early morning fussing roused him and he had quickly exited the room before Charlie had woken up. His brother had not wanted to hear his apology last night, and he could see no reason why he would want to hear it now.

As the day wore on, the quiet, underlying tension in the house grew. Alan wasn't sure if he wanted to join Adam and spend the day crying, mourning the loss of their security; or try screaming at his boys, berating them for their behavior toward one another. But regardless of what he suspected would make him feel better; he knew that he had to allow Don and Charlie to resolve this on their own terms.

It was early evening before Charlie finally managed to get Adam down for a nap. Stepping into the nursery, Alan pulled Charlie away from the crib and whispered, "You should take a nap. There's a good chance he'll be up all night again."

Walking into the hall with his father, Charlie hesitated and cast a glance over his shoulder at the dimly lit nursery.

"He'll be fine, Charlie."

"I know. I just don't want him to wake up screaming for me, and then I'm not there. He's insecure enough right now as it is."

In response, Alan stepped back through the nursery doors and retrieved the baby monitor, checking to make sure the receiver was on before he stepped back out into the hall. "I'll keep this with me. If he wakes up, I'll get him. If he doesn't see you first, I think he'll be oaky with me for a while."

Descending the stairs into the living room, Charlie asked, "Were we ever this... clingy?"

Alan chuckled under his breath as he took a seat in his recliner, placing the baby monitor on the coffee table. "You had your days, my boy. There were times when your mother would be so relieved that she could sit down and just breathe once you finally fell asleep."

Charlie sat down on the couch and allowed his head to lean back against the cushions, staring up at the ceiling. He understood exactly what his father meant. After a moment he looked up at him. "What about Don? Did he get like this?"

Alan scowled as he contemplated his answer. "Even as a baby, Don was more taciturn than you. He would brood and pout more than he would fuss and cry. It seems that a tendency toward being phlegmatic is a built in mechanism with your brother; always had been, right from the start."

Charlie frowned at his father's answer and shook his head slightly.

"I don't think that's really fair. Don has very strong emotions, he just doesn't share them as openly as you or I, but he still feels them."

As he said the words, a deep sense of guilt descended upon him. He hadn't given Don an inch last night and he allowed his brother to think that he agreed with his statement of self-condemnation. After all, he had allowed the thought to pass through his mind. If Don hadn't come home, if he hadn't jumped right back into his life, perhaps Valdario would not have been able to target the family the way that he had. But as soon as Don had said it and closed the door, Charlie had realized that home was exactly where his brother needed to be, regardless of the events his presence had elicited. They had each other... they were a family and no matter what transpired, they had to keep that. He had allowed his anger and hurt at Don's abandonment of them after the attack to keep him from saying that aloud, when it had been exactly what his brother had needed to hear. He was also sure that was why Don had been surreptitiously looking at advertisements for apartments in the West LA area, as far from Pasadena as he could get.

Alan had responded to his accusation of unfairness, but Charlie hadn't heard a word of it as his thoughts turned inward. He looked up at his father with determination in his eyes.

"I need to speak to Don."

Without waiting for his father's reaction, Charlie got up and left the living room in search of his brother. Something led him toward the backdoor and he was not surprised to see Don out in the yard. He was sitting next to the Koi pond, watching the fish glide under the crystal surface of the water, completely lost in thought. A burly agent had stationed himself in the far corner of the yard, near the back gate, watching vigilantly. Charlie knew there were at least three other agents nearby, although could not see them from the backdoor. The presence of heavily armed men in his backyard, no matter how discrete they were, unsettled Charlie a little. But, he had resolved himself to accept it as a necessary evil. Grateful that the agents were giving Don enough space for them to have a private conversation, Charlie opened the door and walked across the yard. Don didn't hear him approach and was slightly startled when he sat down in the grass next to him. Before his brother could make move, Charlie placed a firm hand on Don's forearm.

"Please don't leave. You've been avoiding me all day and we need to talk."

Don turned his face away from his brother and said softly, "There's nothing to say, Charlie. I screwed up. I..."

"Don, stop it! Please listen to me."

Don turned toward Charlie, looking at him warily as if he were tensing for the denunciation he knew he rightly deserved.

"You said that you should never have come back and I'm not going to pretend that the thought never crossed my mind. But I was upset, I was angry; hell I was scared shitless after what happened yesterday, but I was wrong too." The words came out in a rush, and Charlie paused, taking a deep breath to gather his thoughts before continuing. "Don, this is your home; we are your family - this _is_ where you belong. The most important thing we have is each other…You, me, Dad…even Adam now…all of us. Without that, what is there?"

Don searched Charlie's face and found only truth in it. He had spent the last twenty four hours trying to decide where he would go after this was over and found himself becoming more and more despondent as the hours crept past. He was certain that Charlie wanted him to leave as soon as was reasonably possible and he didn't begrudge his brother that desire. He had brought all of this down on his family. The danger had been delivered right to their doorstep and after the near tragedy of yesterday, he couldn't blame his father or Charlie for thinking that they might be better off if he rode out this storm somewhere else. And even though his heart soared to hear Charlie words, he couldn't manage an appropriate response.

"Don, do you know why I have repeatedly made a habit of retreating into the sanctity of mathematics when life gets too hard?"

The question caught Don off guard and he shook his head in confusion.

"It's because of what they represent; what numbers represent to me. The world of mathematics.. it's ordered, logical - it makes sense and is predictable. Numbers don't lie; they don't abandon you - they're safe."

Finding his voice, Don turned and met his brother's eyes. "What I did yesterday…. I was angry, Charlie. Not just angry, I was…" He paused. Unable to find a word appropriate for the raw fury that had driven him to confront Valdario, Don shook his head. "More than anything, I was scared. More scared than I've ever been in my whole life. But…I'm not trying to make excuses here, Charlie. There's no excuse for the way I ran out of there. I wasn't thinking about you and I should have been. I never meant to hurt or abandon you that way."

Charlie turned his body so that he was facing Don directly.

"I know you didn't, Don. That's not what I meant. I want you to stay here. Even after all of this is over. I need you to stay. I spoke to Colby earlier and..."

Charlie had to stop for a moment as a wave of emotion bubbled up and Don leaned forward, concerned. "So this is about Adam leaving you? The abandonment thing…that's not about me?"

"No…" He paused to heave a deep sigh. "Maybe a little. But, Don, no matter what happens, with Valdario, with the Millers, with Adam - You're my brother, man. We need to be here for each other."

Charlie paused again and turned away from his brother to look up at the sun hanging low in the western sky. It was a beautiful day, but the warmth of the golden orb held no peace for him.

"Do you know why I haven't withdrawn into my numbers even with all of this going on?" Without giving Don the time to answer, he kept talking. "Numbers fall short in many respects. They can't love me; they can't comfort me – well, not in a visceral sense anyway. Numbers are a tool, a vision, but they can't replace the people in my life. I learned that lesson the hard way when mom died. As much as they were an escape for me, they were also a prison, confining me to an existence of self-depreciation and denial."

He turned back to his older brother. "Don't you see, Don. I need you to keep me from falling back over the edge of that abyss. I don't know any other way to explain this other than to say that, even though he is not the child of my body, Adam _is_ the child of my heart, and when he leaves a huge piece of me is going to die."

Don stiffened at those words, but he didn't interrupt.

"I have learned more about life, loss, sacrifice, love and my own heart in the last four months than I have in the past thirty years. And, in the last twelve hours, I have learned that I would do anything for that child. I would die for him, Don. Adam has changed every aspect of my life and the way I view the world and I have no idea how I am going to live without him."

"Then why don't you fight to keep him?"

Although he didn't fully understand the reasoning behind his brother's statement, Don could see how hard it was for him to say it and he tried to sound encouraging as he said, "Charlie, Ethan asked you to take care of his son. He didn't ask you to take care of him until someone could come and get him. If you feel this strongly about him, you should fight for custody."

Charlie ran his hand though his hair and gave his brother a melancholy smile. "I can't do that to him _because_ I love him. Adam has lost everyone in this world who has ever loved him. Kristen Miller is his only surviving relative, and I won't take that away from him too. I don't want to drop him into the middle of a custody battle; he's been through enough trauma without me causing him more. I have to do what is best for him; not what's best for me. Everything that's happened over the last two days has made that very clear."

"Now, Charlie what happened isn't your fault. If I hadn't come home…"

"No, Don." Cutting his brother off, Charlie shook his head adamantly. "Don't you see? Your coming home doesn't change anything. This investigation is so big that sooner or later, they would have found out who you were and then who I was. As long as Miguel Valdario is alive, Adam is not safe with me…because we won't be safe."

"Come on, Charlie. It's my fault that…"

Again, Don tried to interrupt, but Charlie continued speaking.

"It's more than that, Don. Who we are isn't going to change. Even if this _thing_ had never happened, I can't fool myself into thinking that…" He paused, the anguish of what he was trying to say written plainly across his face. "I have to do what's best for him... and as much as I love him... I am _**not**_ what's best for him."

Tears glimmered in the corner of Charlie's eyes as he fought to control his emotions. "I know that you've been thinking about leaving. I saw the paper you were looking through, that you are trying to find an apartment."

He stopped again, almost expecting Don to deny it. When his brother said nothing, Charlie swallowed hard and said, "I'm asking you not to. Please don't. I can't lose both of you. Don, I want you to stay... I need you to stay. I can't do this alone."

Stunned by everything Charlie has said, Don wasn't sure what to say. Pulling himself to his feet, he turned his back to his brother. Ever since he entered the exam room at the hospital, Don had begun to think that he was no longer welcome in Charlie's eyes. And, after the brief non-conversation last night in the nursery, Don was certain of it. He had spent a reasonable portion of the day looking over advertisements for apartments as far from the family home - Charlie's home - as he could, and still be an acceptable distance from his office. He had even considered putting in for a transfer out of state. It had felt to Don like the last few years progress that he and his brother had made in their relationship had all be destroyed by yesterday's event. Now, as he stood next to the Koi Pond in the light of the setting sun, brushed by a light breeze, everything he had felt over the last fourteen hours seemed like some sort of surreal dream. Charlie wanted him to stay. He said that he needed him to stay and the feeling that plea evoked in him was overpowering.

Rising from the ground, Charlie moved to stand behind his brother. Taking Don's silence to mean that he didn't really want to live in the family home, he drew in a deep breath to steady his nerves.

"Look, Don after everything that you have been through, I know that I am asking a lot. I won't beg you to live here. We're both adults... You've been independent of Dad and I for a really long time and I understand that."

Don turned toward him, inhaling deeply as if preparing to say something profound, so Charlie hurriedly continued. "I was just hoping that we could put our differences aside..."

He never got a chance to finish what he was saying. His words were quickly forgotten as Don pulled him into a sudden, fierce embrace, not caring one whit that an agent from his office was witnessing this public display of affection. "Stop! Charlie, just stop."

A few short seconds later, Don let go of his rather stunned brother. Stepping back, he grabbed both of Charlie's shoulders, and held him out at arms length. "Why is it that we keep misunderstanding each other? I don't _want_ to leave; I thought that you wanted me to go. "

Charlie looked up at him, flabbergasted by the explosion of emotion from his older brother. He opened his mouth to speak, but Don didn't let him. "I meant what I said yesterday at the hospital, Charlie. You are more important to me than anything in this world. You know that, right?"

Blinking rapidly, and fighting to control the quaver in his voice, Charlie said, "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Don squeezed Charlie's shoulders tightly in an effort to substantiate his words. "I'll stay as long as you need me to – as long as you want me to."

* * *

_TBC_

**A/N - **Hello everyone, Alice I here.  
Thank you for sticking with us for so long. We know that it has been a long time between posts the last few chapters. Both of us have had our share of real life considerations this past summer, as many of you know, and right now we are both looking at our school aged children going back to those wonderful hallowed halls of parental peace! I am reminded of the Staples commercial that says, "There Going Baaaack! It's the most wonderful time of the year..."

Also, we would like to tell you that today marks the one year anniversary of our friendship with each other. And, we have finally met for the first time! Finally our children have met as have we and we are taking a week to have ourselves a little vacation! We have naturally begun work on the next two chapters. Once our little darlings go back to school and life returns to some semblance of normal, we anticipate being able to dedicate more time to writing. This story is actually not far from concluding. We really only have five or six more chapters to go.

Once again we thank all of you who have stayed with us throughout this entire process. Please let us know what you think of this last chapter. This one took an exceptionally long time because it is the emotional climax for all of the main characters and we really wanted to get it right.

The next two chapters are closely tied in time line so we want to have them both completed before posting. They will be posted on consecutive days so that the time line is still fresh in your minds after chapter twenty-six. This task will be infinitely easier when all of our combined rug-rats go back to school in a couple of weeks. LOL


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